THE MEMORY
818 Words
Chapter Two: The Memory
Lucy didn't move.
Her mother's voice came from the other side of the attic door.
“Lucy... what did you find?”
Lucy pressed one hand against her mouth.
Her heart was beating so loudly that she was certain her mother could hear it through the door.
She knows.
The thought appeared suddenly in Lucy's mind.
She tried to push it away.
She can't know. How could she know?
Lucy looked down at the photograph again.
Six teenagers.
Five familiar faces.
And hers.
Her fingers tightened around the edges of the picture.
She wanted to throw it away.
She wanted to tear it into tiny pieces and pretend she had never seen it.
But she couldn't.
Something inside her refused to let go.
Curiosity.
It was the same feeling that had made her look inside the wooden box in the first place. The same feeling that had made her keep reading old letters even when they made her uncomfortable.
Lucy had always been curious.
Sometimes too curious.
Her mother used to joke that Lucy could turn a simple question into an investigation.
But this wasn't a game.
This was different.
Lucy slowly moved toward the door.
“Mom?”
There was silence.
Then her mother answered.
“Yes?”
“What happened on October seventeenth?”
Another silence.
Longer this time.
Lucy's stomach twisted.
“Nothing,” her mother finally said.
Lucy frowned.
“That wasn't what I asked.”
“Lucy, come downstairs.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
Lucy stepped back from the door.
Her anxiety grew with every second.
Her mother wasn't answering.
And somehow, that frightened Lucy more than anything else.
She looked at the photograph again.
Lucy.
Her own name.
She tried desperately to remember that night.
Nothing.
Then—
A flash.
A street.
Rain.
The clock tower.
Lucy gasped and grabbed the edge of a table.
For half a second, she saw herself standing beneath the clock tower.
She was younger.
Maybe twelve years old.
Someone was holding her hand.
A girl.
Emily.
Lucy blinked.
The memory disappeared.
“No,” she whispered.
Her breathing became faster.
She closed her eyes and tried to bring it back.
Nothing.
Just darkness.
Then another image came.
A red door.
Someone crying.
A voice saying:
“Don't tell anyone.”
Lucy opened her eyes.
She was shaking.
“What happened to me?”
She whispered the words so quietly that even she almost didn't hear them.
The attic door suddenly opened.
Lucy jumped.
Her mother stood there.
Her face had gone pale.
Her eyes immediately fell on Lucy's hands.
More specifically, the photograph.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then her mother whispered,
“Where did you get that?”
Lucy swallowed.
“In Grandma's box.”
Her mother's expression changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
Lucy had never seen that expression on her mother's face before.
“What is it?” Lucy asked.
Her mother walked into the attic and quickly shut the door behind her.
“Give it to me.”
Lucy stepped backward.
“No.”
“Lucy.”
“What happened that night?”
“Give me the photograph.”
“Why?”
“Because you don't understand what you're looking at.”
“Then explain it to me!”
Her voice cracked.
Tears suddenly filled Lucy's eyes, and she hated herself for it.
She didn't want to cry.
She wanted answers.
She wanted to understand why everyone seemed to know something about her life that she didn't.
Her mother looked at her for a long moment.
Then she said quietly,
“You were never supposed to find that.”
Lucy felt a chill run through her.
“Why?”
Her mother didn't answer.
Instead, she reached for the photograph.
Lucy pulled it away.
“No.”
“Lucy, please.”
“Tell me the truth!”
Her mother looked away.
And that was when Lucy noticed something.
Her mother's hands were trembling.
Lucy stared at them.
Her fear slowly turned into something else.
Determination.
If her mother was afraid of the photograph, then the photograph was important.
And if it was important...
Lucy needed to know why.
She slipped the photograph into the pocket of her hoodie.
Her mother stared at her.
“Lucy, don't.”
Lucy wiped her tears.
“I'm going to find out what happened.”
Her mother shook her head.
“You don't know what you're asking for.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
Her mother looked directly into her eyes.
“Because five years ago, Lucy...
you were the one who disappeared.”
The room went completely silent.
Lucy stared at her mother.
“What?”
But her mother had already turned away.
And Lucy knew, with a terrifying certainty, that the mystery had just become much bigger than a photograph.
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