Alternative

| Epilogue - Part Two

The spheres are different. Rather than connect to one memory, the pair Nathan uses reviews my entire life. I watch images, video footage, of all of my years. From childhood to teenage years, everything plays quickly, as if he's skipping unimportant details.

He doesn't slow down the feed until he reaches the memories of when I'm in high school. He'll pause in some instances, listening to awkward conversations I have with friends, teachers. It's as if he's noticing my fluctuations, my behavior.

The feed drastically slows down, playing at a normal rate, once Elizabeth comes into view. While I admit, ever since I heard her story and watched her mem-blocks, I feel as if I did know Elizabeth. But remembering her face isn't enough to say I had a relationship with her, that I loved her; none of the right feelings came back.

They aren't real.

But the memory feed is. And in this one, I may not remember her, but I know the hallways of my high school. The corner of the third-floor lunchroom where teens went to kiss, touch, and breathe heavy.

Yet, the Elizabeth standing in front of my memory's point of view does none of those things. She's crying. Her face is red.

And in that memory, I touch her face. "I know this is hard, okay? You think I don't know. I don't want to do this," the memory version of me says.

The emotion in my voice is clear. On this day, whenever it was, I am hurting. I'm crying, too. As I watch the video continue, I pop my thumb and crack it.

"Do you?" Elizabeth lifts her head, and suddenly, the video isn't clear. The edges blur. Parts of her face become distorted.

Nathan, still reviewing the images on the wall, scratches his chin. "You really have memory issues, huh?" He glances at me. "That's okay, it'll keep playing."

He's right. It takes a minute, but the image clears. It's also moved ahead a few minutes.

Elizabeth is pressed against me in the memory. She's openly crying, shoulders shaking. I can see myself place a hand on her head before running fingers through her hair. "Kim-bo, I think you're taking this the wrong way. I love you, I do. I—"

"If you love me, why are you leaving me?"

Suddenly, I'm uncomfortable. This memory, as old as it is, is coming from my head. My mind. There is no way any of this can be faked, and considering Elizabeth is dead, tampering with footage now wouldn't make sense.

She died before making me remember her, before having me say the words she'd been longing to hear for so long.

Covering my mouth, I think of her actions. How closely similar they were to mine and what I do for Emery. To love someone so strongly, to need their presence like a drug.

I close my eyes as my memory loop shifts ahead. I only hear what is said next.

"Rayna, what are you afraid of?"

I don't need the videos on the wall to see it. It's in my mind, clear; a forgotten memory. I bit my lip as I picture Elizabeth leaning against a park tree. She's wearing pink, bright, matching the Spring scenery. She lifts her head as she looks at me. "You've got to be afraid of something."

"Kim, that's a dumb question." My own voice echoes in my ear. "Why do you want to talk about these things?"

Elizabeth shrugs before pushing off the tree. For a second, I think I can smell her. She's sweet like candy. "I just like knowing what scares you, you know. Think of it like... well, to better to get to know you." She places her hand on my face. I can feel her fingertips. "I can tell you I'm afraid of being alone. It's really hard to sleep."