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Waking up, I can't remember a thing of last night. Which isn't new.
The only thing anyone really remembers is that they have forgotten.
?Breakfast!? a female voice called from downstairs, and she could be my mother, my sister, my aunt, hell, she could even be my wife.
?In five!? I call back, reaching at the inside of my pillow. I don't even have to remember to do it, it has become muscle memory after all these years.
The new journal is yellow, its leather soft underneath my fingertips. I smile at the cluster inside my pillow, I am sleeping over my memories.
I can't remember when I started journaling, of course I can't. I sort through the colors, scanning the dates on the covers. 2012. Eight years ago.
I know nobody else who does this, but yet again, I haven't talked to anyone about it. Hell, I don't even know if it's legal, with all the pastors talking about the cleansing of sin through Forgetting, the natural process of it.
I flip to the first page of the yellow one.
MY NAME IS HAIMI BENNETT.
AS OF MAY 28, 2020, I WILL BE EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD.
LOOK AT THE ORANGE JOURNAL, TITLED 2012.
The muscle memory tingles, the orange journal, yes. But something in my gut tells me to flip to the entry of the night before first.
May 27, the entry reads, and something tingles inside me. Today is the 28th. My birthday.
I keep on reading, remembering how my morning was, how I explored the woods near our house -who is we, I wonder- I had even drawed a little map. Good for me. The entry is unusually large, stretching over four A5 pages or so. But this isn't bad; I mean, I have nothing to rush for. I love that moment each and every morning, piecing myself together.
The blood froze cold in my veins.
In red ink wrote, HARRI WAS MURDERED.
Who on Earth was Harri?
Harri is your twin brother, I had written below. You went for a walk at the park behind the town hall just before the sunset. A woman shot him straight at the head.
I shivered, the autumn air suddenly feeling very chill for my liking. I had a twin?
And the past tense striked me, for if I had one, he was dead by now. I felt strange; I couldn't make myself feel grief for a boy I couldn't even remember.
?Harri,? I mouthed the name, wishing it would wake up anything inside me, but it didn't. ?Harri,? I rolled the sound around my tongue.
?You comin'?? the same female voice called from downstairs, and I jumped; I had forgotten all about her.
?Give me a second, I'm getting dressed!? I called back to her.
?Okay, I'll start with the pancakes then!?
Pancakes. My mouth watered. I couldn't remember how they looked or even tasted for the life of me, but I knew I loved them.
I scanned the journal entry for any extra detail, but the only thing there was was a description of the woman; tall, pale with red hair. Scar??? I had written in bold lettering, but that was about it.
Pissed beyond belief to my past self for leaving out literally everything, I flipped to the orange journal, hoping for more. In sloppy handwriting wrote:
MY NAME IS HAIMI BENNETT.
I AM TEN (10) YEARS OLD.
MY FAVORITE ANIMAL IS THE CAT.
MY FAVORITE COLOR IS ORANGE.
I smiled at the simplicity of it.
ME, said below an old photo, ten year old me smiling at the camera, a gap between my front teeth.
I, HAIMI BENNETT, SWEAR ON MY LIFE TO NEVER PAINT MY ROOM, TO REMEMBER. 10/11/2012, I had written below the photo of a white room, and I shivered. The room I was in was blue.
But that didn't make sense, how on Earth had the journals-?
?Come on, girl, they're getting cold!?
?Yeah.? I closed the journal with shaking hands, slid it back into its hiding place. This wasn't right. I needed answers, and I needed them now.
The woman in the kitchen was at her early thirties, white, with blonde hair in a tight braid. For a second I had the slightest feeling I was watching my reflection, only at negative coloring.
?I'm Anna,? she prompted a handshake, her smile warmer than the sun.
?Haimi,? I smiled back, amazed at how our fingers looked the same, yet entirely different. ?You're my mother, right??
Anna smiled, nodding at the picture next to her, she, a dark man, and me. And nobody else.
?I think I will go to the lake today, wanna join me?? Anna asked over a plate of golden pancakes and apple juice.
?No, thank you, I- I think I'll stay home today,? I bit into a mouthful. They were delicious. ?Do you know where Harri is?? I tried to catch her off-guard, but failed.
?Harri? Who's that??
?Oh, um, just the cat,? I murmured, focusing on the honey falling drop by drop.
?We have a cat?? her face beamed. ?Tell me when you find him, alright??
?Okay.?
The morning light was shining through the window, illuminating the wooden countertops in golden light. A bird was chirping outside, the leaves in wonderful colors of orange and red. Orange is indeed my favorite color, I thought back at my journal.
The scenery seemed magical, almost ethereal. And for the life of me, I couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that a woman had shot my brother to death last night.
Anna left after a while, telling me there was food in the fridge should I need it. I thanked her for her kindness, yearning for the moment she would finally turn around the curve of the road, disappearing from my eyes.
I bolted. Ran upstairs, checking behind every single door, even behind the shower curtain. But there was only one more room, with a single bed covered in a flowery quilt that was definitely Anna's. There was no sign that another person had ever lived there, let alone a boy of eighteen.
?Harri?? I called, feeling stupid, but of course to no avail. Oh, how I hated the Forgetting.
A brass sign next to the door caught my sight.
IN CASE OF NEED OF INFORMATION, HEAD TO THE TOWN HALL.
Of course. The Town Hall.
I grabbed my bike -I knew it was mine, for it was orange- and became the embodiment of speed. There was only one road, with signs filling each and every turn of it.
TOWN HALL THIS WAY, an arrow pointed, and I followed.
I followed each and every sign titled INFORMATION until I reached a tiny desk with an old man behind it.
?Hello there!? he smiled, his teeth a flash of white.
?Hi,? I smiled back. ?I am looking for everything you got on a man named Harri Bennett.?
The man raised his eyebrow. ?And you are??
?Haimi Bennett. His sister.?
?Harri and Haimi, huh?? the man smiled ?Adorable.? He ran through a database, the lines passing on the screen of his computer at incredible speed. Troubled, he turned at me. ?How do you spell Harri, sweetheart??
?H-A-R-R-I,? I spelled it for him, a wave of uneasiness rolling all over me.
?And Bennett??
?Double n, double t.?
He nodded, typing again, his eyebrows pinched together. ?I'm sorry, Haimi, there must have been a mistake. Your brother does not appear on our database.?
?And the database covers-??
He sighed. ?Birth certificates, age, name, address, photo at each age, biometric data, date of death if applicable.? He chewed on his bottom lip. ?Are you sure he- Are you sure he exists? I mean, many people get confused of photos and names every morning, there is nothing to be ashamed of.?
?No, I- Thank you for your time,? I span on my heels.
What had I written in my journal? The park behind the Town Hall. With tingles of panic washing all over me, I headed to the lush green area filled with people. If there was any evidence, their steps would have carried them away, but a body?
I roamed around, hoping to feel a tug of remembrance over anything, but the only thing familiar seemed to be the ducks, making a terrible noise with all of their chatter. The air smelled of Earth, a deep, coppery smell, tricking me into safety, but I knew better.
A wisp of red caught my eye and I froze, but no, it was just a scarf in the wind.
And finally, finally, I felt a tug of recognition, the red brick building right next to the lake, the willow tree next to it. It radiated something macabre, and I could swear I could find my brother's body beneath the branches, but my eyes only met dirt.
I wouldn't give up.
I scanned the area until the light began to dwindle, the sunny hours were getting less day by day. Something caught my eye, a shimmer between the roots, and my breath caught in my throat. A bullet.
I had never seen one before, and it seemed ridiculous to me that I could remember how a bullet looked and not a pancake, but it didn't matter. I had proof that somebody had fired a shot here.
And the indifference I was feeling all this time was replaced by raw panic, I was not mad, my brother had been shot to death below this very tree, yet there was no evidence he had ever existed. Watching the light fade even more squeezed my throat shut; I was standing alone where a woman had murdered Harri last night.
My knees were weak, but I managed to reach the Town Hall as the street lamps turned on. The same man was sitting behind the information desk, his tie loose by now.
?Haimi,? he smiled at me, and I felt a strange rush of safety, his appearance was all the woman of last night wasn't.
?I have two strange requests,? I looked at his tab, ?Mr. Swann. The first one is, when does the Forgetting happen??
He seemed perplexed. ?Why, dear, it is known that it happens at midnight. Everyone is very much asleep by then, so the minimum damage is done.?
I nodded. I knew, of course I knew, I just wanted the little wrinkled man to confirm it. ?And my second request is even stranger. I am looking for someone.?
?Of course.?
?Could you find them only by their description??
?I can try,? he smiled kindly.
?I am looking for a very pale, tall woman with red hair. There is a high chance she has a visible scar somewhere on her body.?
I knew the answer before he provided me with it. ?There is no such woman, Haimi.?
?Why, thank you.? My voice sounded small even to me.
?Are you alright, dear?? he rose from his chair, his eyebrows creased.
?Yes, I- I'm just afraid to go home in the dark, that's it.?
?Oh, that ain't a problem. James!? he called, and a young man appeared.
?Mr. Swann??
?Could you please escort miss Bennett over here to her house??
I felt blood rushing to my face. ?There is no need, really-?
?Oh, don't worry,? James grinned, ?That's my job,? he showed the service badge on his arm. ?Besides what would I do on a quiet night like this??
We walked to my house in silence, and the scenery was peaceful, full of the sound of life in the dark.
?Why are you scared?? He turned to me once. ?There is nothing dangerous around here.?
?My brother,? I cut him off, and we left it at that.
?Good night then,? he smiled at my doorstep, and I thanked him wholeheartedly, squeezing my bike through the door frame.
Anna was waiting for me in the kitchen, over a bowl of lettuce and chicken, and remembering I had eaten nothing all day, my stomach growled. She filled me in with details of her day, and I let her talk, feeling empty inside. A boy had ceased to exist just like that.
The clock chimed eleven, and she jumped. ?Come on, off to bed we go, quick!?
She truly was lovely, I could learn to love her as my mother, if only I had time.
With my teeth brushed, my stomach full, I laid in the dark, and for the first time since forever, a wild thought rushed in my mind.
Tonight I wouldn't sleep.
I watched the clock ticking minutes into silence, desperately hoping that I could remember, that Harri wouldn't be yet again lost forever from my mind.
As the hand approached twelve, I felt strange, second thoughts rushing through my mind, what I was doing was not illegal, just clearly wrong.
It reached twelve before I realised. And when nothing happened, when I still remembered, I felt a weight lifting from my shoulders. But then I looked again.
It started slow at first. A bug that was there, but then it wasn't.
And slowly, but steadily, the whole world around me began to disappear.
Amari had been four when she had been taken in. The person who'd found her and then offered her a life of luxury and greatness had had really smooth skin. Not a single wrinkle, like a canvas stretched too thinly on flesh. She listened when he told her how powerful she could become, but was wary to go with him. Strangers were dangerous. But really, could someone cause her more hurt than she already had? She wanted out.
She knew she should have waited, given more thought to it, checked if he was reliable, but when the man offered his hand to her, she took it, and told herself it was just to see if his skin felt as smooth as it looked.
??
?What's your name?? Amari asked. She was standing with the smooth-skinned man inside what seemed to be a mansion, her hands fisted at her sides. She might've come with him, willingly, but she could still be careful. Her eyes were pieces of coal set aflame.
The man grinned. ?Call me the Magister.?
?Can I sleep now, Magister??
The Magister ruffled her hair. ?Of course, you can. Come with me, I'll show you your room.?
He took her hand in his, and pulled her up an endless flight of stairs, past torch lit hallways and stopped in front of a huge oak door. He pushed the door open, picking Amari up and plopping her on the four-poster bed.
?Lie down. You can sleep here.?
Amari spread a wary hand over the silk covers, searching for harm in the bed or his words. Finding none, she lay her head down on the pillows, slipping inside the duvet. The Magister sat himself down beside her. He watched as the fire in her eyes lessened, reducing slowly but surely until finally she mouthed a silent ?g'night? and the flames were put to rest.
Long after, when the Magister shut the door behind him, he smiled to himself. He had found her. He had found her.
??
The Magister laughed when she asked to be taught how to make herself invisible first, but she pouted and didn't move. Eyebrow raised, he asked her why she wanted to hide herself. Was there something she didn't want the Magister to know? Before she could reply, however, he laughed it off and agreed.
Then he walked a few steps forward before turning back and looking her in the eye. He knelt down to reach her height. Assuming he wanted a hug, like he had many times before, claiming it was for his own sake and not hers, she went forward and put her tiny arms around him. As she leaned in, suddenly a shock went through the tip of her ears where they grazed the Magister's skin. A string of broken sentences flowed into her mind- a few more years and... incredible power the likes of which no one has seen before... I'll make her a.. she'll be my pawn- but just as quickly as they'd come, the flurry of thought cut off.
She jerked back out of his grasp, and stared at him, eyes wide. The Magister slowly raised his hands to the side of his head, his eyebrows furrowing.
Before the Magister could figure out what happened, Amari had already disappeared to some far corner of the mansion.
??
When she was seven, the Magister tested her. Said that he needed to evaluate if what she had learnt for three years could pay off or not. She remembered climbing over mountains, crawling through the jungle, summoning that deep blue power inside her, like she was reaching into the depths of an ocean, and seeing his face as he beheld the yellow rays that then burst out of her hands, like the rays of sunlight that pierced the darkest ocean. The Magister had asked her then, You see what you're capable of?
She thought of the dark, shadowy area beneath the stairs, where she invariably found her way to every day, hiding and using the golden wisps that sprouted from her fingertips to overhear conversations in the grand hall.
The Magister often talked with his friends there. They talked a lot. The Magister talked a lot to her, too, but always about simple things. About how she was feeling and what she would like to have for dinner.
With his friends, however, he did not mention food. He spoke about battles and wars and revolutions. Of magic and peace and love. He spoke about how Amari would be the key to everything, the piece that would tip the scales in their balance.
Amari heard, but she could not say anything. Not even when they were alone again, and he was asking her if the bed was comfortable enough for her.
Every time she thought about voicing her own opinion, she was hit by a painful reminder. She'd been on the streets, scrapes on her hands and knees from falling over at every stray pebble, little feet struggling to, but unable to do more take a few more stumbling steps forward. The leftover food she'd scavenged from dumpsters always left that bitter taste in her mouth, like she was being abandoned on the road all over again, wrapped in a measly blanket, not understanding that no one would come for her no matter how much she cried. She had been weak. Pitifully weak. Unable to fend for herself. Yes, she had been weak, but now?
Now she wasn't. She wouldn't ever be if she simply continued to listen to the Magister Whatever he told her, she would do, because he had saved her.
So, when the Magister asked her, even though some part wanted to tell him she didn't truly wish to take part in all the things he talked about, she simply said, I see.
??
Amari was the most powerful mage in the world. That's what the Magister always said, that's what his friends all believed. Amari believed it too.
With a flick of her fingers, she could slice the mountains she had climbed up, panting, just a few years ago. She could clap her hands, entwine her fingers, and the same mountains would stitch themselves back together, as if nothing had torn them apart in the first place.
She thought of herself as those mountains. Always appearing calm and stoic, both unstoppable force and immovable object, when in reality, she could be torn apart just as easily as-
She jerked her head, a sharp movement. How did it matter if she could or could not? She'd just stitch herself back up again.
??
?Sixteen thousand of them,? one of the people in the hall gleefully started. Amari was 11, in her spot under the stairs, with extra shields and wards placed over herself to avoid detection. The numbers the speaker quoted sent a chill down her spine, and she wondered if it was possible the numbers did not mean what she thought they did. ?Sixteen thousand of them eliminated in one attack! It was definitely a good idea to use her,? they finished.
When the speaker cast a glance at the ceiling, right at the area where Amari's room would be, she realized they meant her. And then realized that her worst fears had been answered. She immediately cut off further sound. Something threatened to regurgitate up her throat, like her stomach was turning itself inside out.
She had been told to collapse a building, and she'd done it without feeling, assuming it was one of the many exercises she performed every day to strengthen her power. She had not stopped to think that there might be people inside.
No. No. She had to be true to at least herself. Although she had not known at that time that she was committing a crime, she had suspected that sooner or later they would instruct her to do something like this. She had been negligent, not checking whether she could sense life forces inside, wanting to get through the task as soon as possible.
?Sixteen thousand people,? she whispered to herself, wondering if the gold strands she weaved in the air weren't actually cruel, dark black. ?I've killed sixteen thousand people.?
She felt herself begin to come apart. She wondered if it was actually possible to stitch back humans just like she could stitch back mountains. She wondered if she had any reason to not do what she really wanted to anymore.
??
The Magister found her, like he always did. ?You were listening, weren't you??
?How did you know?? Amari asked, her voice hollow.
The Magister smiled, ?You forgot to hide the traces.?
So, she had In her revulsion over what had happened, she had carelessly forgotten to hide the traces of her magic after muting the voices off.
?I'll be more careful next time.?
That was supposed to be the end of the conversation, but the Magister lowered himself on the bed she was curled up on. A distant memory flickered through Amari's mind, one where the Magister had given her a bed to sleep on for the first time, and sat on its edge, the comforting weight beside her lulling her to sleep. Even now, his presence soothed back the edges of her that had begun to fray.
She felt something inside her calm down considerably. She knew he knew that she calmed down in his presence.
She hated it. She hoped that one day she would be able to escape from here. From him.
??
It wasn't a whole sixteen thousand the next few times. It was two, maybe three people, a group of travellers, a family living in the outskirts. No, not even a thousandth of it, but it felt much heavier. She wondered if Atlas, holding the sky felt the same weight on his shoulders. She thought holding the sky would be easier.
??
She did wonder, sometimes. All the time, really. She wondered about herself and her magic and what if she had never been born and why the world was as it was but mostly, she wondered about the Magister.
She wondered if he thought of her as a daughter. Probably not. Maybe he did. Why else would he care for her? She thought about him as a father- or at least the closest equivalent. Or maybe he simply wanted to ensure she was happy and healthy, all the better to use her as a weapon later. As his pawn.
She wondered. She wondered if she could leave him and go away, just as her biological parents had once. Would that be the tearing apart event? She wondered.
??
She toppled mountains over a valley. There seemed to be a caravan traveling there then She saw it too late.
That night she dreamt of her golden magic turning black, an ink that spread through everywhere, staining the world. She couldn't see anything but herself, and the darkness left by her own hand.
When she woke up, she found that the black had seeped into reality. When she flicked her fingers, she found she controlled the shadows.
And the shadows were easy enough to work with.
??
The seventh time, it worked. When the Magister came to her, she felt only disgust. A little bit of fear. A wave of fury that threatened to spill out of her and seize him.
He stepped forward. She stepped back.
He took a larger step forward. She moved quickly and stepped forward too.
Before he could understand what was going on, she slapped two hands to the sides of his head.
(A/n: ?Before he could understand what was going on, she slapped two pieces of bread to the sides of his head.?
WHAT ARE YOU? AN IDIOT SANDWICH.)
??
It hadn't taken long to send the black wisps into his mind. She found a few barriers, a few walls to keep powers like hers away. For those few seconds it took, she saw his eyes widen, something akin to panic course through them. So, he had suspected, she thought. He had suspected that she would try reaching it to his mind one day- to do what, who knows? But the few seconds passed and she found easy access to his memories, to his knowledge, everything that ever passed through his mind.
She could take her time, for he was in limbo and she could go through the contents of his brain leisurely.
She paused.
Should she? What was she hoping to find? Did she want to confirm that the Magister had had paternal feelings towards her? What if he didn't? What if he did? Would that mean she would be willing to go ahead with whatever he told her to do? Did she really want to know what was in the mind of someone who not only condoned but encouraged killing?
She thought for a while.
And then she decided.
No. Even if she did find something, was able to look at their conversations and interactions through the Magister's point of view, it wouldn't change anything. She didn't want to be the cause of death of anyone anymore, and she didn't want an excuse for her past actions. She would accept it as it was. And that was the end of the matter.
She reached further with her power, found the connections in his mind with the other mages, his friends who believed with him that she would be their pawn to achieve whatever they wished to. Laughing silently, because she was using her powers to do something, she was sure they would be awed at, she erased their memories. She erased everyone's memories who had ever seen her, heard of her, used her.
And so, she ceased to exist in their lives, a weapon that had decided that it was better off not being used like so.
??
Amari lived on the streets. She didn't have a home, or a set of clothes. She didn't have somewhere she could cook or go to find food. She worked hard to conjure up sustenance and homes for everyone else- they were the families, the ones like the people she had killed. This was her way of making peace with them She never let herself rest, even if it meant looking at the dark black spill from her fingers all the time. It made her sick, yes, but in spite of all of that, she was happy. Because just the other day, she had found just a little bit of the golden slip back into her magic.
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