Chapter 6 : Fragmented Memories
The image reflected a young man of perhaps 15 or 16 years old. His skin, pale as the finest porcelain, and on that immaculate canvas burned two deep red eyes, with a liquid glow reminiscent of rubies soaked in fresh blood.
Her hair, silver and straight, flowed delicately down her shoulders. Her features were too fine: a slightly tapering jaw, thin lips of a faint color, a straight nose that enhanced the impossible balance of her face. There was something disturbingly androgynous about her appearance. An ambiguity that puzzled me.
When I looked at him intently, I was trapped, hypnotized. Like an insect paralyzed before the edge of a blade.
My heart skipped a beat and an icy sensation slid down my spine, nestling between my shoulder blades like claws.
My breathing became heavy, erratic, as if my lungs were burning inside, the air rushing in and out in short, sharp gusts. Drops of cold sweat soaked my forehead and began to descend slowly, drawing tortuous paths down my temples and neck.
I felt an irregular heartbeat in my chest. One that did not belong to me. My heart —my heart?— seemed to writhe, beating with a rhythm I didn't recognize. As if someone squeezed it from within, yet I could not look away from that silhouette.
«When you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.»
That phrase echoed strongly in my head. Invading my mind again and again.
"...The abyss will gaze into you."
The young man reflected seemed to fix his attention on me. It was not just a simple reflection returning my gaze, but something deeper, more visceral. His scarlet pupils seemed to dilate at that instant, and for a few moments I had the impression —just a fleeting impression.
«He was watching me.»
Crack.
As if the air between us had broken, the young man smiled.
A slow, minimal smile that distorted the entire surface of the mirror.
(...)
Suddenly I felt a warm liquid descending from my nostrils: blood.
But even that didn't matter, because the moment our eyes met, an avalanche of memories crashed into my mind violently.
Unknown images flooded my head:
...A child crying in a dark hallway...
...Cold hands, too delicate, caressing his face...
...The voice of a woman screaming for him to wake up...
...A carpeted hallway where his heart no longer beat...
...The perfume of a woman who embraced him with love, then despised him...
...A girl who promised to stay by his side and abandoned him...
...The cold of nights when he cried...
...The loneliness that always welcomed him...
...The helplessness of not being enough...
...The emptiness... fear... and the immense agony he woke up to every day...
—Ah...! —a broken moan escaped my lips.
My chest contracted with spasms, I felt a sharp pain dragging through my mind. I wanted to scream or at least step back, to look away from the mirror, but my body refused to obey.
The pain was unbearable.
I didn't understand anything. Nothing.
And yet, each fragment felt so vivid, so close, that it shattered me from within.
My hands at my sides trembled, rigid, almost foreign. My breathing splintered into ragged gasps. An electric tingling slid from my nape down to my wrists, and suddenly I realized I was... smiling.
—M... mother... —I murmured.
The words broke in my throat somewhere, I didn't understand what was happening. What had I just said!?
And yet, they left my lips so naturally, accompanied by a whimper.
Then, another wave of images crashed into my mind.
...a field dyed red...
...the blade of a sword gleaming, stained with flesh and guilt...
...Helena, smiling, crying... whispering my name... were these my memories? Or someone else's?
...A sword piercing my chest, blood gushing hot, Helena's face so close I could feel her breath...
...but no, it was no longer Helena. It was an unknown woman with red hair, embracing me desperately, crying against my neck...
...my whole body burning under the weight of a vow, a crowd shouting "hero!" while I raised my sword stained red...
...and then a small boy, terrified, running down a carpeted hallway, tears falling over polished shoes as he searched for a refuge that never existed...
A sharp buzzing filled my ears, as if my whole world had sunk into the ocean. My vision darkened and red spots opened and closed like wounds.
My throat arched, releasing a sound I didn't recognize as my own —half sob, half strangled laugh.
Then more images came, without warning, tearing apart any shred of sanity I had left:
...a long table, laden with empty glasses and plates stained with wine, hollow laughter echoing through golden walls...
...a bloodstained ring rolling across the marble floor, stopping as it struck a black shoe...
...a vow broken in the middle of the night, a voice fracturing in promises that tasted of betrayal... and finally, a girl with blue eyes holding my hand...
Everything was trapped in an unbearable whirlwind, so close I could smell it: the hot iron of blood spreading around me, the sour damp of fear, the fleeting fragrance of a perfume that was not hers.
—Stop... —I babbled.
But there was no pause.
The mirror in front of me pulsed, as if it were breathing.
And in the midst of the distorted glass, the young man with scarlet eyes slowly raised his hand. He placed it against the surface, so close that for an instant I would swear that if I stretched out my fingers, I could touch it.
An involuntary tremor ran through my arms. Without thinking, my own hands rose, imitating his gesture, until they rested against the cold glass.
The contact pierced me like lightning.
One beat, two, three...
I felt his pulse mixing with mine, his pain embedding in my chest like burning thorns. A tangle of memories that I could no longer tell if they were his or mine began to beat in unison, breathing with my air, contaminating every corner of my mind.