Page 176
Story: When Hearts Remember
“They’re in the past,” I mutter. “The past can’t hurt you.”
“Stop it,” someone moans.
Acid rushes up my throat as I creep toward the cracked open door, the thumping beats of the music sounding far away.
Screams. More screams.
I look down and see my silver heels.
Slapping sounds. Crying. Thumping—but that may be my pulse in my ears.
Water. Lots of water rushing in from the closed windows and doors.
Me screaming, pain exploding over my body. My leg is trapped.
I can’t get out.
It’s so dark—I can’t see.
Then the images change.
Hummingbird window. Dreariness outside.
It’s freezing, but I’m happy.
“Stop daydreaming, Nova. Don’t you have work to do?”
Ethan.
I turn around, finding him staring at me, a boyish grin on his face. His hair is disheveled. He looks so lighthearted and happy.
“You’re no fun,” I grumble, turning back to my laptop. “Why are you even here?”
“I’m the keeper of your dreams. Your north star.”
My breath stalls in my throat and my eyes tear up as I relive this precious scrap of memory. The only piece of the past Ethan—the past us—I remember. This smallest flash tells me the precious memories I’ve lost are still buried inside me.
“Keeper of my dreams,” I whisper. What a beautiful sentiment.
But then I startle, goosebumps pebbling my forearms from a sudden awareness.
Can it be?
My fingers shake, and I click on the USB drive folder again, the password prompt popping up on the screen.
“Keeperofdreams,” I murmur and hit enter.
No beeping.
“Yes!” I pump my fist in the air, elation sweeping through me as the explorer screen opens, showing the contents of the mysterious drive.
“Photos, assignments, journals,” I mumble, scrolling through the many folders I have in there. But then I stop when I come across one particular folder.
Dayton’s Important Stuff.
I frown. Why would he have important items with me? I must’ve accidentally backed up his folders in the past.
After clicking it open, my eyes widen when I take in all the PDFs and screenshots. I click on a few of them and gasp. There are bank statements, wire transfer receipts, and financial records of accounts in the Cayman Islands.
“Stop it,” someone moans.
Acid rushes up my throat as I creep toward the cracked open door, the thumping beats of the music sounding far away.
Screams. More screams.
I look down and see my silver heels.
Slapping sounds. Crying. Thumping—but that may be my pulse in my ears.
Water. Lots of water rushing in from the closed windows and doors.
Me screaming, pain exploding over my body. My leg is trapped.
I can’t get out.
It’s so dark—I can’t see.
Then the images change.
Hummingbird window. Dreariness outside.
It’s freezing, but I’m happy.
“Stop daydreaming, Nova. Don’t you have work to do?”
Ethan.
I turn around, finding him staring at me, a boyish grin on his face. His hair is disheveled. He looks so lighthearted and happy.
“You’re no fun,” I grumble, turning back to my laptop. “Why are you even here?”
“I’m the keeper of your dreams. Your north star.”
My breath stalls in my throat and my eyes tear up as I relive this precious scrap of memory. The only piece of the past Ethan—the past us—I remember. This smallest flash tells me the precious memories I’ve lost are still buried inside me.
“Keeper of my dreams,” I whisper. What a beautiful sentiment.
But then I startle, goosebumps pebbling my forearms from a sudden awareness.
Can it be?
My fingers shake, and I click on the USB drive folder again, the password prompt popping up on the screen.
“Keeperofdreams,” I murmur and hit enter.
No beeping.
“Yes!” I pump my fist in the air, elation sweeping through me as the explorer screen opens, showing the contents of the mysterious drive.
“Photos, assignments, journals,” I mumble, scrolling through the many folders I have in there. But then I stop when I come across one particular folder.
Dayton’s Important Stuff.
I frown. Why would he have important items with me? I must’ve accidentally backed up his folders in the past.
After clicking it open, my eyes widen when I take in all the PDFs and screenshots. I click on a few of them and gasp. There are bank statements, wire transfer receipts, and financial records of accounts in the Cayman Islands.
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