24.44% 3 Years Later / Chapter 11: Crack

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Chapter 11: Crack

History does not agree well with me.

All the things I did, I was, every choice I taken, every decision I've made, sapped the life out of me for so long. For years I've spend nights stuck in the past, regretting the things I did. Things I did to past friends, past lovers, my family, school, classes, work. Even myself.

Everything I've done plagued my senses until the day came when the past became the new dead and the dead became the new living. In a world such as this, spending time stewing over such regret proved to be trivial and unnecessary.

And so, I shoved them away. Stored them in the box at the back reaches of my memory and threw out the key. Vowed to forget the names to faces, the forget the faces to bodies, to forget the bodies to people I once knew.

As I watched the clasps click. Watched the masks slip. Listen to their familiar sounds. Recognize familiar looks. It felt as if it all came crashing back .

Whatever lock I had that kept all these memories repressed seemed to have been broken.

"Bryce!" Cried a freckled, full bearded face as Jake let out his own laugh. Soon throwing a hug against the man with glee as he spoke.

"Dylan! My man! It's so good to see you." He cried. Patting him on the back before turning to the man in front of me. Jake's green eyes widening as he pointed.


I didn't want to look but I did.

Pierced skin, dark brown unruly hair, a butterfly tattoo at the base of each wrist. What got to me was his eyes. A golden brown that, perhaps under a different circumstance, sent my stomach to flips before, now they just held that same relentless rage.

He's familiar. I should know who this is. But whatever past he's connected to was one deep with pain. One that, the more I thought about it, the more my brain becomes fried.

Bile began to creep up my throat as my head pounded harder than before. Returning with vengeance to bring me down. I gulped dryly as I stumbled back. My hands clutching as the different lengths of hair that I cut myself.

"Shit not again." I heard Bryce say as I watched his backpack come into view.

"What's going on?" 'Dylan' asked as I watched Bryce scramble towards me.

"Her memories are fucked up."


"What Bryce, It's true!"

"I-I'm fine..." I whispered. Trying to blink away the pain but finding I couldn't. Whatever Pandora's box that opened the day I met Bryce kept ripping at my head. My eyes shooting up and catching a sight of those hateful golden brown.

My legs buckled causing a couple of curses. Unknown hands held me before I keeled over on the floor. My throat closing on any words I ever wanted to say as I swayed to some old tune in my head. Gazing up through a haze as I saw the 4 guys bicker about something. Richard pointing at me, then at the barricade. Bryce yelling back. Dylan trying to calm them both. Dominic barely made a whisper, opting to stare instead.

Then two new figures came. Both feminine and all the more made my stomach churn. A place were past meets present was drowning me in a sea of ... what? tears? emotions? Things I've never felt yet I've always had felt?

I was being dragged. Further into the hive as muffled yells and arguing hung above the thumps of my head. Senses muddled in with one another as blackness swam between each concept of the real world. The closer it got, the more everything numbs. A strange taste feeling my mouth as something began to drip down into it from my nose. The unmistakable metallic scent sending my head through more hurdles.

I couldn't hear it. But I am sure I was saying that I was fine.

I'm fine. I must be fine. I have to be fine.


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