I read the entire newspaper. That night I couldn't sleep. I gazed at the ceiling above me, wondering when my next dreams might appear. I lose hope. I never had them to begin with. The more I learn, the more terrifying it becomes. It's past 3.00 a.m. The staring figure might come to watch me. It always comes. She always comes. She stares at me. Comes close to me. breathes into my ear and leaves. Perhaps she wants to speak. To whisper. Perhaps to take revenge. But what did I do to deserve such?
. . .
She came. I can hear her footsteps creaking through the floor. She's at my ear. My eyes are wide open. I do not turn. I wait. Wait for an answer.
"Didn't sleep yet?" she whispers to my ear, "Afraid your dreams might tell you the truth?" She pauses.
I know her. Her voice is familiar. She and I have spoken before. Before my missing memories. She is my 'mother', but I know her from somewhere else. We're related, but not me as a child of hers. As someone who was close to me. As someone whom I was close to hers. Does she know? Will she tell me? Can I, trust her?