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Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
The world is bouncing again, and my heart shoots up to my throat even though I know this isn't really happening.
The real me is back in the professor's office, hopefully without any drool on my face even though I've been magicked into a trance that would help me retrieve my memories.
Because all of this is just that.
Memories.
And so even though the world continues to bounce and everything looks the same—-
Even though everything feels terrifyingly accurate—-
None of this real, I whisper fiercely to myself. None of it is real. None of it!
I say the words over and over until I lose track of time, and I would've gone on saying it endlessly except...
The professor told me that I'd feel it when it happens. Know it when happens.
And I think he's right.
Because I think it is already happening, and when I slowly open my eyes, it's all I can do not to cry in sheer relief...because it's just like the professor said.
Exactly like the professor said.
The world is still bouncing. But I no longer feel myself bouncing with it.
A man still has me in his arms, but this time my perspective has changed, and it now feels like I'm merely watching myself.
My consciousness has started to separate itself from my subconscious, and so the only thing left for me to do is—-
PUSH.
My eyes squeeze back shut involuntarily as I strain myself.
Push, push, push!
I strain as hard as I can, but it's my own brain that's resisting me, my own brain insisting that it's impossible to push when your own body isn't corporeal, and the whole world you're in isn't real. My brain insists that I should give up, but I can't. I mustn't. This is my only chance, so...
Push harder, Halyna! PUSH!
To counter the logical approach of my brain, I make myself imagine I'm trapped inside a spider's web. Envision the air around me thinning until I'm gasping for breath. I need to think, I need to feel this is my last chance at living. I need to believe I'm about to die so I can—
PUUUUUUUUUUSH.
My consciousness finally destroys the last tendril that chains it to this world of memories, and just like the professor also said it would—-
Time grinds into a standstill, and the man holding me freezes mid-motion just as I feel myself bursting out of an unseen cocoon.
I can almost feel my body physically manifesting itself, one cell after another. This world might still not be real, but I am, and it's because I'm finally real...
"Professor?"
My voice comes out in an awkward croak. It just feels so suicidal to call out loud when the man with red eyes is right here next to me, but barely a moment passes when I hear the professor speak.
I can hear you.
It's almost similar to how my god communicates with me. Just louder and less private, with his words echoing around me like there are invisible speakers transmitting his voice.
"Am I drooling out there?" Since I hate making small talk, hearing myself doing it tells me I'm more anxious than I thought, and when I hear the professor chuckle, my body sags as air actually whooshes out of my lungs, and it's only then I realize I've been tense and holding my breath this entire time.
Are you alright there?
Is he kidding me? How can I be alright when the man with red eyes is frozen right next to me? How can I feel alright when he's still holding another version of myself captive? The look of desperation and fear on Memory Me is painful to see, and even though my brain knows what I'm seeing here is the past - it isn't even real, for heaven's sake -
Facts mean shit at this moment, and my heart feels like it's about to explode out of my chest.
I can't be alright with everything here feeling so damnably real, I can't possibly be alright with my knees already shamefully quaking under me as more insidious thoughts start poisoning my mind.
The professor may hear me, but that's all he can do right now. He isn't really seeing what I'm seeing, won't be able to warn me ahead of time if an attacker comes up behind me. He won't even see me fighting for my life if it somehow comes down to that.
All he can do is hear me, but what if I don't even have time to scream?
Terror curdles in my stomach, but because it's simply not my style to act like a baby, I force myself to directly confront my fears and just be done with it.
Ever so slowly, I turn my gaze to the man with red eyes, and my skin crawls even as he remains unmoving in front of me. His head is slightly lowered, his left foot frozen mid-air above the next step. I look around, and it eventually dawns on me at what exact point of my memory I've revisited.
Shit, shit, shit.
In a little while, Memory Me will make a futile attempt to escape him, and the knowledge that I'll have to relive that moment makes me feel like throwing up. The trauma of that night hasn't really ever left me. It's been a constant shadow in the back of my mind, and I doubt it would ever go away, even if I were to succeed in unmasking this man and make him pay for his sins.
If it were just me, I'd rather forget everything. Pretend it never happened. But that choice has been taken away from me. That choice stopped being a choice the moment I found out he's started killing again, and I just know...
Deep in my guts, I know.
Whatever that man's fucked-up reason is for killing Myrrha—-
I know it has something to do with me, and I know the man with red eyes can use the exact same reason to kill my parents next.
The thought is unbearable, and it's enough to make me grit my teeth as I shove all of my fears aside.
Get! A! Grip!
I even give my cheeks a couple little slaps for added effect, and it's when I'm doing this that the professor's voice suddenly intrudes in my mind—-
Are you still there?
The sound makes me jump, and I bite back an expletive.
Halyna!
I think it's the first time I've ever heard the professor call me by my name, but any forbidden pleasure that I could've derived from it is completely ruined by the way he's almost given me a heart attack.
"Don't scare me like that!"
Then keep talking so I don't start thinking something happened to you!
The professor's caustic tone grates a little, but since I can't deny he has a really valid point, I'm about to apologize grudgingly when I notice something considerably odd about my surroundings. "Professor?"
What is it?
I gulp hard and whisper, "I've just noticed something weird..."
Describe it to me.
Although I know I'm being stupid again, the thought of taking my eyes off the man with red eyes frightens me to the core. A part of me is horribly convinced that he's just playacting, and it's that part of me which makes me keep him in my peripheral vision while I struggle to find the words to describe how random fragments of the ceiling and walls have disappeared behind greyish masses that almost look like ghosts struggling to come into life.
"I don't know how to explain it. There are patches on this world. Like this world is sick, and they're covered by...blurs."
What kind of blurs?
"They're almost the color of smoke, but darker. And they're moving, like...an infection that eats up little chunks of...things...while it spreads."
Several moments pass before the professor speaks again.
Can you do me a favor?
Can you go around and describe to me how your captor looks from behind?
What he's asking makes no apparent sense to me, but what's even worse is that doing so would mean having to take my gaze off the man with red eyes.
And I don't want to do that.
The thought alone already has a shiver running down my spine.
But because I also know the professor isn't the kind of idiot who'd ask me to do something pointless, I just grit my teeth and force my still-trembling limbs to move.
Remember what the professor told you, I urge myself. Now that my consciousness is separate from Memory Me, I'm the one who's calling all the shots. Nothing in this world has the power to hurt me, and-—"Holy Greek shit!"