Soren Bowers's Story

A gasp filled the empty apartment, and a formerly still body sat bolt upright. Soren gasped for air, his heart still pounding in his chest.This had happened every single night since he’d first woken up in this apartment. Every time he woke up, he woke up afraid, but the memories of the dream disappeared as soon as he tried to remember them, vanishing like smoke into the abyss of his mind. His phone was hovering a foot off the bedside table, and he snatched it from the air, checking the time. He didn’t know why he could suddenly move things without touching them or why they tended to hover in midair when he was upset about something or why he seemed to flicker in and out of sight at times. He didn’t know why his memory was so blank. He didn’t know where he was, why he was here, or what the hell he was supposed to do about it. He’d hoped he might figure it out with time, but two days later and he still had no idea. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something he needed to do and that something was urgent, and every morning he found himself reaching for his phone as if the answer would be there. It never was.

It was late morning, later than he’d meant to sleep. Groaning to himself, he grabbed the packet of smokes on his bedside table, pulled on a hoodie, took up his usual position, sitting on his window sill with the window open as wide as it would go, and lit up a cigarette. Even if he couldn’t remember what the dreams were about, or why he was here or what the hell was happening to him, he knew that a smoke was one of the only things that could calm the tremors in his hands and the shaking of his breath. It seemed that the things he couldn’t remember outweighed the things he did. His memory was just a gaping void, full of things that he felt he could almost remember, but the minute anything became halfway clear, it would just slip out of reach. Except for a few memories, and almost all of them were ones he would have been fine with forgetting.

And then there was the name. Markus Vasco. It had been his first thought when he’d opened his eyes two days ago, and it was a name that seemed to be constantly whispered in his mind ever since. He’d done a bit of research, and it seemed he was a tattoo artist somewhere in town. Soren had the address written down on a piece of paper, but something was holding him back, stopping him from going and looking just yet. What the hell was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? Hi, two days ago I woke up with total amnesia and for some reason, the only name I could remember besides my own was yours. Do you have any idea about it? Because I sure as hell don’t.

He sighed, blowing out a lungful of smoke out the window into the street and watched as it twisted and curled, before fading into nothing. Somebody had once told him the cigarettes would kill him one day, and he’d just laughed and shrugged. He blinked at the sudden memory, but the faces around it were gone, empty faces he just couldn’t recall no matter how much he tried. He stubbed out the cigarette and closed the window, figuring he needed to get dressed and figure out what the hell he was going to do for the day. There was a leaflet abandoned on the counter, one that had been shoved into his hand by someone on the street yesterday, advertising the town’s Halloween festival. Even if the night itself was just under two weeks away, the town seemed to run events for the whole of October. Soren went over to pick up the leaflet. Something, deep inside him, told him that was where he should go tonight. Well, it wasn’t like he had any better plans.

He spent the rest of the day just in the apartment, doing a little more reading into this Markus Vasco. He’d considered googling his own name more than once, but every time he went to type his name in, a wave of panic and anxiety came over him, telling him not to do it. He figured that reaction meant that he probably wasn’t going to like whatever he found, so he just never looked. But he couldn’t find much on this Markus person either, and he knew that meant he probably just needed to get over himself and go talk to him. He promised himself he’d do it the following day, but first he’d decided to go to this Halloween market for whatever reason.

He pulled on his trusted silver jacket, put on some eyeliner to make him feel a little more like himself (another thing he instinctively knew and couldn’t explain), and headed out. It was cold, but it had at least stopped raining. His breath came out in a swirl of fog as he walked, pulling his jacket a little tighter around him. Torches lined the streets, giving everything an eerie and atmospheric look. Stalls lined Main Street, with local businesses all running stalls of all and every kind. There were people selling handmade masks and costumes, local artists selling art, and so much wonderful looking and smelling food. He bought a cup of hot apple cider and wandered down the street, looking at the stalls and wondering what it was exactly that had drawn him here, or if it had just been curiosity and something to do.

A display of ornate masks had caught Soren’s attention, just for long enough that he also didn’t see the man about to walk straight into him. The collision was hard enough that Soren’s still full cup of apple cider went flying from his hand and landed somewhere behind him. But Soren’s attention was fixed on this man. For a brief, fleeting moment of a second, there was a rush of emotion, and Soren wasn’t even sure how to put them into words. He had so much to say, so much to apologise for, so much to-

And then just like that, the moment was gone, and Soren found himself staring at the man’s face, scrambling for memories that weren’t there. But he knew that he knew this man somehow, that there had been something there once upon a time, but he couldn’t remember what. Frustration grew inside him, so much that he almost missed the man’s words. He forced a smile, shrugging a little.

“It’s fine, these… these things happen,” he said. At the offer of being bought another drink though, he raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Sure, if you’re offering.” He reached out and grasped the man’s hand for just a moment, and again, there was that rush of emotion, the beginnings of memory, and then it was gone again, and Soren shoved his hands back into the pockets of his jacket. His skin tingled at the memory of the touch, but the question of whether or not he was from around here quickly distracted him as they stepped back into the queue for the apple cider.

“I… yeah, I grew up here,” he said. Even that was a guess, he was working entirely off the basis that he seemed to be able to find his way around without having to think about it and knew the streets intuitively. “Or… I mean, I think I did. I, um…” He wasn’t even sure if he should be saying this, but those flashes of emotion and the ghosts of memories… he had known this man, and the longer he stared at him, the more certain he was of that fact. And he was just so tired of not remembering anything, not remembering anyone. That flash of a subconscious reaction was the first reaction he’d had to anything since he’d opened his eyes, and it was the closest thing he had to any sort of hope right now. Hope that things might actually get back to some semblance of normality. If there was any chance this man had known who Soren was, who he had been, then Soren was going to take that chance.

“I… actually have pretty bad amnesia at the moment, so… if it looks like I’m blanking anyone, it isn’t me being rude, I just… can’t remember who they are,” he admitted with a nervous laugh, tucking his hair behind his ear. He stepped up to the counter and gave the order for two apple ciders and a toffee apple, stepping aside to let the man pay and handing him one of the cups. “I’m… I’m really sorry about this but… I feel like I know you or… knew you. Did… did we know each other?” He asked.

Markus found himself staring blankly at the man as he began to speak. Trying to convince himself that he was just imagining things. That there was no way that this was him. There was just no way. It was seven years now, he had seen the body, been to the funeral, everything. So, there was no way, he was just seeing things he so desperately wanted to see. But then, the other man spoke and Markus could have sworn his heart stopped in his chest. His voice. That voice. It was his. And suddenly, Markus didn’t know what to believe. Was he truly losing his mind? Was this the day he finally just lost all of his remaining senses? Probably. But, even if he was just seeing things that weren’t really happening, Markus didn’t want it to end just yet. He shook his head, taking him out of his thoughts as he finally felt strength return back to his legs to help pull him along as the other man got back in line. Markus didn’t know if he was staring or not, but he must have been as his eyes scanned over the man that stood before him as he spoke. Nodding ever so slightly as he said that he was from around here. That he grew up here. Or, that he thought he did. Markus didn’t understand what he meant, but kept silent as the man continued to talk. Not like he had much of a choice, seeing as his voice caught itself in his throat and wouldn’t come out as hard as he tried.

He found himself continuing to scan over the man that stood next to him trying to understand what the fuck was going on. Hell, he was close to asking what kind of sick joke was this, until the man finally said that he was sorry about his memory, and how he had bad amnesia. And that if he seemed to come across as rude, that he wasn’t doing it on purpose. Markus took the cup the man handed to him, and took a sip. The drink helped clear his throat a bit, but not much. Markus finally found himself regain that strength he needed to speak, and he couldn’t help it as his voice came out in a shaky tone, try as he might to not have his voice break, “It...It’s okay.” he began, clearing his throat and took a deep breath as the two began to walk once more. Markus took another moment to gather his thoughts, he didn’t know what was going on but, if Soren was really fucking here, somehow...Well, he wasn’t going to waste it. He didn’t care. All he wanted was to be able to talk to his best friend again-no, the person he cared for more than a friend, but that was so long ago. As if it was almost a life time ago. But, however many years may have passed by, and however older he may have looked...This was Soren. His Soren. His best friend. Markus bit his lip for a moment and began to finally speak again, “Yeah...I guess you could say we used to know each other.” Markus said with a small chuckle, however forced it was.

This felt so unreal, but he wasn’t going to waste time with this. Markus sighed as he looked down at the ground before looking back at Soren. “We...We used to be best friends, Soren. Me, you...and one of our other friends.” he paused for a moment, finally for the first time his memory went back to how things used to be. Back when they were kids, the three of then. He shook his head once more as he continued, “But, that was a long time ago. A really long time ago...But, that doesn’t matter. You’re back and...That’s all that matters.” he smiled slightly, a rather genuine for the first time in a long time. He looked back at Soren, “I won’t ask what happened but...If there’s anything I can clear up for you...I’ll be more than happy to, if I can.”

Soren could have guessed from the man’s reaction that they had somehow known each other, but being told that they had been best friends just broke Soren’s heart. He watched the man, desperately hoping for something to be familiar, for something to just trigger the memories and they’d come flooding back. But besides that lingering feeling that they had known each other, there was nothing. Soren studied the man’s face for a second or two, before things fell into place.

“You’re Markus, right? Markus Vasco?” He said, his face lighting up in a smile at the realisation that the name finally had a face to match. Even though he asked it as a question, his gut told him he was right. Markus Vasco, his best friend… well, before. For a moment, there was that burst of emotion, just lingering for a second, but this time, echoes of the emotions remained. Not enough that he could remember why he felt them, but it was something.

“Well… I mean, even if you did ask what had happened, I don’t think I could answer. I… just woke up two days ago and… poof. No memories, no… nothing. All I could remember was my own name.” He decided against mentioning that his first thought had been Markus’ name for some reason. Now he knew who he was, he swore that the man’s face was familiar. But there was a bittersweet undertone. He knew who Markus was, but he couldn’t remember any of their history, any of the things that defined their friendship. All of the things he could remember were things he’d rather forget, but the good memories were completely out of reach.

“I… have no idea what happened. Just… nothing. Do… do you know?” He asked, turning slightly to look at Markus. There was a wave of that same anxiety he felt whenever he went to type his own name into google, except this time it didn’t go away, settling into his chest and wrapping around his lungs. Soren cleared his throat in an attempt to ease the building pressure, but it didn’t budge. He felt in his pocket for his cigarettes, but he’d left them on the window of his apartment. He took a sip of his cider, trying desperately to ignore the growing pressure in his chest.

Markus nodded slowly as he could tell Soren was trying to piece things together, and the moment he heard Soren say his name, a smile appeared on his face. But for just a moment. “Yeah. That, that’s me.” a tone of excitement rang through his voice, quickly clearing his throat as he recomposed himself. Taking a deep breath as he listened to what Soren said. Not exactly fully understanding but, for as far as Markus was concerned, why would Soren be lying about this? It didn’t make sense. Hell, none of this made sense. Markus took a deep breath, before taking a sip of his drink, “Uhm...I think it’d be best if we...Sat down first..?” he motioned with his head to a few benches that were off to the side of the main square, far enough away from most crowds. Once they both sat down, Markus put the drink down next to him on the bench, and clasped his hands infront of him before he began to talk, “Soren..” Markus began, “....Seven years ago...There was an accident...We got into an argument and….We both stormed off...I don’t know what happened exactly but...You got into a car accident, and...Sor... You didn’t make it.” his voice dipped at the end, as tears began to fill his eyes. He let out a long held breath in a small gasp, rubbing his head. “...You wouldn’t know this cuz...Well...You were gone after this but...Our other friend...Erin she...She died not too long after you…” he shook his head, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his knees as he looked away. This was the first time in years he talked about either of them. And now, he was somehow talking to Soren again? Whether he was really here, or Markus was just imagining it, he didn’t know. But, if this was really Soren, however he may have been here, he deserved to know.

Soren’s chest tightened even more as Markus suggested they should sit down, but he just nodded numbly. It felt like every nerve in his body was screaming at him to run away, to leave, that he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear, but he needed to know. He needed to know what the hell had happened to him.

But he never would have guessed what Markus was about to say. He had died. Seven years ago. It felt like there was a weight pressing on his chest now, enough that it hurt to breathe. He wanted to accuse Markus of lying, wanted to say it had to be some type of sick joke. But… deep down, it felt like he knew. When he desperately tried to call up some memory of the incident, all that came up were all the bad memories he’d tried not to think about. The shattering of glass less than an inch away from his face, the burning of cuts, and the sickening smell of whiskey. The fear of creeping through an empty house as silently as possible in case it wasn’t as empty as he thought.

“This… this can’t be happening,” he managed to force out, searching Markus’ face for some type of answer. “I can’t… how did I-“ The weight on his chest now was unbearable, and Soren realised that the light above their head had begun to flicker and both his and Markus’ cups of cider were now floating in mid air. His hands were flickering in and out of sight. “I need to go.” He bolted to his feet, looking at Markus for just a second longer. “I’m sorry.” He managed to get out, before turning and walking away.

He didn’t know where he was going or why, but all he knew was that he needed to get out of there before something bad happened. Back to the apartment, back to where he was safe, away from everyone else. The quickest way home was through the crowds, and his intense discomfort won out over his desire to be away from people.

It was when he was in the crowd, surrounded by people, that it happened. His vision suddenly went black, and it felt like he’d been pushed into a freezing lake, gasping for air that wasn’t coming and the cold practically painful against his skin, even through his clothes. And then there was a voice. Low and dark and sinister. “I’ll take things from here.” It sounded smug, as if this was a game. And Soren couldn’t do anything to stop it.

And suddenly it seemed like he was watching his body from somewhere else. Something else was wearing his skin. Soren had never stood that tall in his life, had never worn an expression like that, one that was somewhere between idle boredom and intense hatred. It took him a moment to identify what was wrong. The iris of his eyes was pitch black, darker than dark, chilling when you looked at them for even a millisecond too long.

A demon was wearing his skin and using it to wreak destruction. Soren wasn’t sure if the limitations of his strange new abilities were just gone or if the demon just knew how to use it better. Because handmade stalls, impeccably made stalls, were shattered to smithereens with just a lazy toss of it’s- his- hand. In only a few short moments, it had destroyed half of the carefully made stalls without a second thought. And it smiled, an awful, twisted smile that looked all wrong on Soren’s face. It caught two people staring at him in terror and that horrible smile widened.

“Haven’t you ever seen a ghost before?” It asked, in a voice that was both his and not his, reverberating all wrong for such an open area. “Consider this your first warning. Restore what was mine to me or I will use these vessels to bring more destruction than you can ever imagine,” it called. It turned its cold, harsh gaze on a figure that Soren swore he knew, and Soren panicked. He didn’t know how he did it or even that he could, but he flung his consciousness towards his body. And it worked, because there was that same feeling of being temporarily submerged in water, of breathlessness and not being able to breathe.

For a moment, he stood exactly as the demon had stood. And then his legs gave out at the same time as a wave of dizziness and exhaustion hit him, and he hit the ground, dazed and trying to piece things back together.

The Sheriff took a few moments to talk to them. Nobody could have blamed her for not believing their stories. Soren barely believed it himself, except it had happened to him. But instead, on hearing their story, her mouth just pressed into a hard line, as if it confirmed her suspicions. “Alright. Well, none of you seem to be in any state to answer too many questions. We’ll do what we can to keep things as calm for you guys as possible, but if anyone gives you any trouble, you call me, you hear?” She instructed. She had a stern, but not unfriendly expression, the type of person you could believe was doing the right thing. “Now get yourselves out of here. If you remember anything that could be useful, you tell me right away. And don’t you worry. The supernatural and this town are well acquainted,” she said, before turning and walking back to her officers. Soren noticed an elderly woman waiting to talk to the sheriff. The woman’s eyes were bright with observation, and for a moment, she turned her attention to look at the group. And then she nodded to herself, ever so slightly, as if a point had just been proven. When the sheriff spoke to her, she spoke to the old woman with a tone of respect. They spoke for a few seconds, before the old woman nodded and approached the group.

“You kids need to get yourselves something to eat. You all look like you’re about to pass out, especially you.” She poked Soren in the ribs, and he just stared at her with confusion. “Don’t worry about your friend. Demonic possession is exhausting. She’ll be just fine, just give her a while to wake up. Now, like I said, you kids need a good meal and an even better sleep. But tomorrow or whenever y’all are feeling better, you come see me, you hear? My house is that old witchy looking house on the south side of town, you’ll know it when you see it. And I’ll make sure to have a pot of Gramma Bloom’s special tea on. Now go on, scram.”

When the old lady spoke, people listened, and they were no different. Soren stuck close to Markus as they made their way to the nearest restaurant that was still open. Instinctively, they stuck together as a group, but Soren almost wished that they could just… slip away, just him and the only soul that seemed any way familiar. He knew that he had known most of the others, but he didn’t know how, and he hated that. He hated not knowing. But Markus was helping to carry the unconscious woman, so they just stuck with the rest of the group. The server gave them an odd look, but evidently decided against asking too many questions as she seated them at the largest booth. Even still, it was a bit tight. At first, the physical contact of being so close to someone else was comforting. But then Soren’s knee brushed against Markus’ and his heart jumped in his chest, a reflex reaction Soren didn’t quite understand.

He couldn’t quite meet anyone else’s eyes, couldn’t quite deal with the fact that they all seemed to have some memory of him while his memories were ghosts themselves. Honestly, he just wanted to go home, but that wasn’t an option. And besides, as overwhelming as everything seemed, he did want answers, and he felt like this was his best chance at getting them.

When Erin finally woke up, she awoke with a panic that Soren recognised. It was the same panic that he woke up with every morning. Markus reassured her, telling her that she was fine. He was as kind to her as he had been to Soren, something which resulted in a variety of emotions in Soren, something which he decided against dwelling on. She asked about what had happened in the diner, and Soren glanced at the others, wondering exactly what had happened.

When one of the girls- the one Markus had called Nixie, he thought- explained what had happened, a shiver ran down Soren’s spine. It was exactly the same thing that happened to him. He kept his eyes firmly on the table in front of him, idly tracing patterns in an attempt to occupy his mind. But apparently, through Xan and Erin, they had given one message, something about suffering and burning.

“Consider this your first warning. Restore what was mine to me or I will use these vessels to bring more destruction than you can ever imagine.” He said, without glancing up. “That’s… that’s what it said when it… possessed me,” he admitted. “The old woman said something about coming to see her. If it was forty-nine years ago, she might remember what happened. And she seemed to be unsurprised by the whole thing so… I dunno, she seems like she could be a good place to start to ask questions. I don’t know about you guys, but I’d prefer not to be a vessel for ‘more destruction than you could ever imagine.’” He managed to force something like a smile as he finally managed to look up at the rest of the group.

Some of their faces were familiar, some more familiar than others. But more than he’d ever experienced before, or perhaps more than he’d just noticed, the hollowness he’d been feeling felt like an absence. And it just made it feel all the worse, made it feel all the more noticeable. Everyone else seemed to recognise each other or to at least have somebody that they knew. But the best he had was Markus’ word that they’d known each other and vague feelings of familiarity. He glanced down again, the realisation that it seemed they’d all known and could remember him making him feel more like an impostor than ever. Maybe this was some huge mistake and he wasn’t the person they’d known at all.

Once the food arrived, the conversation halted for a few minutes as everyone seemed to realise in sync how hungry they were. For a few minutes, they just seemed like a bunch of normal twenty-somethings, enjoying the festival and teasing each other. In fact, they’d paid up and had left the restaurant as a group before they seemed to collectively realise why they were there. And then they stood, huddled in the cold, nobody knowing what to do or say, and nobody seeming to want to leave. When Leo suggested they went back to his, everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Leo’s family had enough rooms that they didn’t all have to sleep in the same room, but they did have to share a room. Asking Markus if he wanted to share was a far too nerve wracking moment for Soren, and the relief when he agreed was significant. At that moment in time, having to deal with any of the others when he still could remember absolutely nothing about them just seemed too awkward and too uncomfortable for him. He couldn’t remember much about Markus either, but the feeling of familiarity was a start, and it was something he was desperately going to cling to.

He pulled off his jacket and sat down hard on the bed as they got to the small bedroom, exhaling heavily and running a hand through his hair to brush it out of his face. He wasn’t sure if he should say something, if he should acknowledge everything that had happened, but the words didn’t seem to come. The best he could come up with seemed to be, “Jesus Christ, what a night.”

Everything after the diner had felt like some weird lucid dream for Markus. Having followed the group wherever they went, when they all sat down and ate together, and eventually when they all decided to go back to Leo’s. Something they probably would have done when they were younger. This all felt so unreal to Markus, if he was being honest. But, just in case this truly was a dream, he stuck closely by Erin and Sor. He wanted to be next to them as long as he could.

It was only when they arrived back at Leo’s, and were given rooms to pair off into, Markus had originally wanted to stay with someone who hadn’t come back from the dead, but after brief reconsideration, he agreed to the arrangements. It was only when they got into the room, that he realized something. The exact detail of the arrangements. But, without hesitation, Markus grabbed a pillow and blanket and plopped down on the floor and laid down, staring up at the ceiling in silence. The silence went on for what felt like forever, as he debated on whether or not to say anything. It was only when Soren broke the silence, that he let out a sigh of relief.

Markus turned his head a bit in Soren’s direction, pausing for a moment as he thought. None of this felt real. It was almost like a dream. Feeling like it was all how it used to be when they were kids. Sleeping over each other’s houses. It was just so odd to him. Yet here they were, and Soren was none the wiser. Markus chuckled to himself for a moment, “Yeah...You could say that.” he muttered out a reply.

Markus’ reply worked half a smile out of Soren as he kicked off his boots, before sitting cross-legged on the bed. He wanted to talk, wanted to ask some of the questions that had been buzzing around his head, but he didn’t know where to start. And then, suddenly, there was a crashing feeling of guilt. He’d been focused so much on his own feelings, he hadn’t even thought about how Markus had to be feeling. He sighed, lying back on the bed so he was staring at the ceiling and didn’t have to look at Markus.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “For… all of this, for everything. I wish I could remember… something.” He managed to shoot a glance over at Markus, where he was lying on the floor, and instinctively laughed a little. “I would have taken the floor if you’d asked,” he added, almost reflexively, without thinking.

Markus simply blinked and shrugged as his initial response, his mind still trying to think of something to say. There were a few brief moments of silence that filled the room after Soren spoke, before there was a soft chuckle from Markus. He turned onto his side, propping his head up with his arm. Glancing up where Soren was, before looking back down at the floor. “You don’t need to be sorry, you know. It’s not your fault, I-” he paused, taking a deep breath as he had to stop himself from saying anything he didn’t want to. “It’s not your fault. The things that happened before, it was my fault. I can’t be upset at you...Not anymore.” Markus slowly sat up as he spoke.

“For as long as I’ve known you, Soren?” he started, glancing up at him for a moment, “I can’t be upset if you forget anything. All things considered, none of us know what’s really going on but, I’m just...Glad to have you back. I’m glad to have my friend back again, however long it may be for..” he said with a faint smile, his eyes becoming a bit glossy before he shook his head and cleared his throat. “But, it’ll be fine. We’ll be fine….” Markus said with a nod, keeping his eyes glued to the floor.

Markus’ words managed to work a proper smile out of Soren for what felt like the first time since he’d woken up in that empty apartment. Something deep inside him was so inexplicably happy to have Markus around, which left Soren wondering about the exact nature of their relationship before. But it wasn’t something he could ask Markus, that much he did seem to know. And then there was the mention of “what happened before”, the feeling that… something had happened. Something bad. But even thinking too much about it made his chest tighten again, and he didn’t want to push it again. Not after what happened last time.

He glanced away as well, as Markus said something about “however long he was there for.” That was the thing; if they’d come back so inexplicably, they didn’t know how long they’d be around for. The demon or whatever it was that had possessed them earlier seemed to have plans for them, but how long did they have? Soren cleared his throat and shrugged a little, smiling as he glanced back up at Markus.

“For what it’s worth, I’m not planning on going anywhere just yet. We’ve got some demon-busting to do first,” he said.

Markus chuckled a little at the comment, glancing over towards Soren for a moment, “I guess so…” he paused for a moment, thinking about it for a moment before nodding. “We should probably try to get some sleep then...Seeing as we have work to do tomorrow…” Markus laid back down, letting out a heavy sigh as he stared back up at the ceiling, “Goodnight, Sor.”

“Night, Markus.”

Soren found himself staring at the ceiling for a while, both unwilling and unable to sleep. The events of the night kept flashing through his mind, remembering what his body had done and everything that had happened. Would it happen again? What could they do if it did? Would he hurt somebody this time?

Eventually, he fell asleep, almost against his will. The nightmares came. They always did. Shadowy figures screaming abuse, shattering glass and the smell of whiskey, and the screeching of twisting metal. But that night, something cut through the rest. It was still yelling, but it was a different voice. It was his voice, but the words weren’t clear. And then he saw the face of the person he was yelling at. He was yelling at Markus.

When he woke up, everywhere was bright. The panic didn’t seem quite as strong as it usually did, even if it was still there. And for the first time, the dreams didn’t fade the minute he woke up. He could still see them, still remember them. Except the dream where he was yelling at Markus seemed less like a dream and more like a memory. He didn’t look to see if Markus was still there or not, just headed downstairs in the direction of where he thought the kitchen would be.

He was half hoping that he might have the kitchen alone to himself, to give himself a little while to think and to get everything straight in his head. But there was no such luck. Somebody was already in the kitchen. Xan, he remembered her name was. He forced a smile to match hers and nodded as she said that they were free to help themselves. Awkwardly, he scanned the table, feeling like he should take something but being unsure of what exactly he should take. "Uh, kinda," he said as she asked if he was hungry. Truth be told, he hadn't even thought about whether or not he was hungry at that point.

When she offered him the bagel, his stomach rumbled. "Are you sure?" He said. "Thanks." He gratefully took the bagel and searched the table for cream cheese. He glanced up to ask Xan something; and was hit by another memory, almost more vivid and definitely longer than any of the others. It wasn't anything significant; the two of them, so much younger, sitting in an empty auditorium. Xan was telling him that he needed to audition for their musical; it was We Will Rock You, and according to her, it was right up his street.

He blinked, and was suddenly back in the present; and then he looked back up at her, grinning despite himself. "We Will Rock You. I was a senior, you were... a sophomore?" He asked. "You told me I needed to audition for the main role, and I was like 'nope i'm just gonna be microphone tech again.'" He glanced down at the table and his bagel, now sufficiently spread with cream cheese, but was still grinning to himself. He looked back at Xan, his smile slipping ever so slightly. "I can't remember much, but... I just remember that," he said, shrugging slightly. Then he remembered that Xan was like him, and a part of him relaxed a bit more. "Is it... is it like this for you two?" He asked. "Not being able to properly remember anything?" He asked. The realisation that he wasn't alone in this, that he wasn't the only ghost back from the dead, was a relief so strong it was almost heavy. He just needed someone else who understood, and maybe everything else would come easier then.

Erin didn't even remember how long she was lying on her back, just mindlessly staring up at the ceiling as she hoped sleep would come for her at some point. But, eventually it did and she was washed in an ocean of darkness. While Erin didn't remember much of well, anything, she did know that the feeling that washed over her when she slept wasn't normal. After sleep came, all Erin experienced was a sensation of cold and empty. Dreams never really came. At least not what she remembered dreams being like. No. These dreams were just a void. It seemed like no matter what, they were always the same. A repeating cycle. She'd wake up in the same place. The feeling of cold and went cement beneath her. The sound of rain. Her fingers digging into the ground beneath her until her fingertips split and bled. Forcing her way up to her feet. Then silence mixed with the soft echo of rain..before a bright light and a sharp pain in her back...And she'd wake up again. So, Erin expected the same this time. But that wasn't the case.

This dream wasn't like the others, at least not fully. When Erin found herself in The Dream World as she came to call it, she was always laying down. Crumpled over herself in a heap on her stomach. Having to push herself to her side and then eventually up to her feet. But not this time. Erin found herself sitting upright this time. She looked around, inky darkness was all around once more. But that familiar, distant sound of rain could be heard.

Normally, Erin would have been annoyed by the constant amount of times she heard rain by this point..Everytime she felt asleep. It was all she heard and she didn't know why. A part of Erin knew what this was, but every other part of her wanted to ignore it. Pretend like this wasn't exactly what it was. A repeat cycle of her last moments. Erin sighed as she tried to think. Just anything at this point to come back to her. Anything at all. But nothing. Erin couldn't really remember names or faces. Other than the ones of the people she met since coming back. Soren. Markus. Leo. Elle. Xan. And Nixie. Nixie. Why was there a part of Erin that felt hollow? Missing even when she thought about that other woman?

Erin knew she should have felt something, seeing as Can said they had dated at one point but, none of that made sense. If that was the case, why couldn't she feel anything? Anything at all? It was only then that the sound of rain began to grow louder and louder. Entirely drenching Erin as it splattered across her face. She looked up where the sky would have been, letting the rain trickle across her skin. She just wanted to feel something. Anything at all other than this feeling of numbness and dread.

Erin opened her eyes and found herself suspended in space, water slowly filling up more and more. At every passing second it slowly began to encase her, as if she was in some invisible container that would eventually fill up and drown her..Erin tried to free herself, but any attempt felt heavy and weighted. Like she was tied down and unable to move. Chained by the confines of her mind. Like a barrier that she herself created to protect herself. But it all felt wrong.

You're drowning. she told herself. You're fucking drowning and no one is going to save you. You need to wake up. Wake up! her mind screamed at her. There was a large inhale as Erin forced herself awake. In those first few moments, she could have sworn she was submerged under icy cold water. Her lungs began to close and her chest was weighted. She felt claustrophobic. Yet here she was. Erin forced herself to sit up. Blinking as she tried to gain her bearings.

She wasn't in any place she recognized right away. Upon further inspection, Erin was lying in an empty empty bathtub. How she go there, she didn't know. Maybe she sleepwalked? She didn't know. Erin looked down at herself and saw she had apparently undressed herself for the most part as well. The bare minimum was keeping her clothed. Now she was begining to sleep walk? After a weird dream? Well, weirder? Lovely..

Erin forced herself out of the bath and dressed herself in the clothes from the previous day. If she could go back to her apartment, she'd get some clean clothes. Looking around, Erin splashed some water on her face. Looking herself in the mirror for a moment, fixing her hair as she combed her fingers through the mane of blonde hair. Erin took a deep breath and exited the bathroom. She could hear some faint talking from the kitchen down the stairs, or well, what she remembered? Erin contimpated going back to the room and check on Nixie but, she figured she'd want her space and instead chose to go to the kitchen.

Upon entering, she gave the two occupants a small, awkward nod and wave of greeting. Just then, there was a sharp pain in her head, and a flash of white light shot through her head. The faintest glimpse of a memory shot through her mind. It took her a moment as she grimaced. Holding her head. Erin walked over to one of the cabinets and as if it was routine, she retrieved a bottle of pain killers, and walked to another cabinet and retrieved a glass. Filling it with water as she took to pills, hoping to ease the pain.

Erin finally turned to look at the other two. Blinking for a moment as she looked over at Can, eyebrows furrowed. "It...It rained that night, didn't it? When...When I…" she cut herself short. Not dating to finish that train of thought. Her dreams should have been enough of a clue for her all but gone memories for her to gleene from. She didn't need to bring it up now. Looking over at Soren for a moment, she blinked. "You...You…" she started, pausing for a moment as so very hazy memories sparked across her mind. Trying to piece together whatever fragments she had. "You..You did music." she looked away feeling her cheeks grow a bit warm as the feeling of embarrassment creeped over her. "I'm sorry. My memories are...Really fuzzy right now. Things come back in bursts and...Fragmented. I'm sorry." she excused herself, reaching into her pocket as she retrieved a packet of cigarettes as she made her way to the back patio and into the cold outdoors.

The feeling of cold air brushing against her skin helped, but just barely. Erin retrieved a single cigarette, placing it between her teeth as she retrieved her lighter. Once it was alight, she took the deepest inhale and held it, before exhaling. A small cough escaped her lips as she leaned against the railing. Her eyes flickering about as she tried to wrap her mind around the random fragments of what she could only assume was her life before this one. If she was being honest, Erin was absolutely terrified. And if her constant bouncing of her leg wasn't any indication, she didn't know what was. But for now, she was trying to compose herself before she made her way back into the kitchen with the others. So, she for a few more minutes longer, she'd remain outside. To whatever scrambled of thoughts she had.

Xan's answer wasn't exactly the one he'd wanted. In a lot of ways, he'd been hoping that everyone felt exactly the same as him, unable to remember even who he was. But then she said that she'd hardly been able to remember things when she was alive; and he found himself wondering if having things to forget was one of the reasons he'd lost so many of his memories. He wanted to ask Xan more; but then they were interrupted by somebody else coming in. It was Erin. He wanted to talk to Erin as well, he realised; but not here, not like this. Having heart to hearts about what the hell had happened in their previous lives seemed like the type of thing that should happen one on one, not in a random kitchen with an audience.

However, she didn't seem to have much of a memory either, which was something of a comfort. Maybe he wasn't entirely alone in this either. Her declaration that he'd done music was a strange feeling. Because when she said it, his feeling was "yeah that's right", something that he instinctively knew without realising that that knowledge had been there all along. And now he remembered it, it felt like a puzzle piece had been slotted into a part of him that had been a gaping void only moments before. But of course music was his thing. He just nodded and smiled a little at her, his stomach sinking at the realisation that he couldn't remember anything similar about her. But he'd known her. He knew that much.

He gave Xan an awkward, but genuine, smile as Erin left. "Trust me, I think I know exactly what's going on in her head," he admitted with an awkward laugh. He frowned as Xan asked the smart speaker to play a song, wondering what she was doing. At first, there was a blank there; the words not ringing any bells. And then, it was like somebody flicked a switch. It wasn't just that he could remember the words; he could see the sheet music, could see the piano keys. His face broke into a huge grin without even realising, and as Xan put her back against his, he knew exactly what to do.

"She's a killer Queeeeeeeeen," he sang, hitting the high notes effortlessly. The words came without him having to think about them. In that moment, it felt like nothing had changed; like they were still dumb teenagers goofing around in the auditorium and like time hadn't changed at all. "Gunpowder, gelatine, dynamite with a laser beam, guaranteed to blow your mind!

He'd somehow missed them being joined by two others in the kitchen until Nixie joined in with singing the next verse. He laughed at her facial expressions, shooting Xan a look and starting some improvised choreography as the two girls sang, hoping that she'd join in as well. He was no dancer, he never had been, but he could somehow remember some of the choreography from the rehearsals he'd been in. And then they hit the chorus again and it seemed like they were all singing now. The memories of the night before were long gone, banished from everyone's minds, as they just goofed around and sang their hearts out. When he was singing, he swore all of the memories were clearer and didn't disappear the minute he tried to grasp them.