3 Sarah (1/2)

”I still need you,” I shouted.

I could see through my mother's face, as she was trying to calm me down, she probably realised I was a ticking bomb, there would not be much time left until I would have swept away everything around me. My first thought was to hug and smell her lilac perfume, which I loved so much when I was a child, as it always made me feel safe.

”Ducky, we'll always be together in your dreams or whenever you'll need me,” she said, as her image disappeared from my eyes, which were once again soaked with tears.

I was not ready to say goodbye, for a second, just for a tiny amount of time, it seemed like it was not a dream, my mind tried to deceive me once again, as it made me question whether what I was experiencing was real.

From her ethereal image to the perfume which I recalled the many fond recollections we spent together, pieces of memories which were becoming wounds, the blood spilt even though not visible to the naked eye, I could nonetheless feel the pain which would have slowly killed me. When will the suffering and crying end, when will I cease to constantly blame myself for not being by her side, when she needed me the most.

”When you will remember,” a voice suddenly whispered.

It all began to freeze as a strange shadow appeared, cleverly hidden through the darkest corner of the room, which once belonged to my mother. It began to advance toward me, in a slow manner.

”Don't come near me,” I said.

”Why don't you remember?” the girl asked cautiously. She was the one who held me under water trying to drown me in the pool.

”I'm imagining you again. I'm going crazy,” I said, in disbelief as she grimaced with satisfaction.

”I am not a memory nor an illusion if this is what you're thinking.”

”So, I'm right. I am going crazy.”

She came near and scrutinized me, trying to read my soul, ”you need to find the truth, your life could be an illusion, your eyes may be shut, even though to you they might seem open,” she said.

”I don't understand.”

”It will all come with time, you are my only hope,” she remarked.

Hope? It was a word I did not have for myself, how could I be one for someone else's? I could sense I was opening my eyes and regaining conscience, the vision was becoming blurred, and I needed more information from her.