Memory of the Wronged

I had always been greedy. Even a penny on the ground was something I couldn’t resist picking up and hiding away.

My family hated that about me. And now, when I showed no interest in ten million dollars and only wanted to stay in the city, they despised me even more.

“I’m not going back because…”

My voice trembled as I tried to explain, but before I could finish, Ben cut me off with a wave of his hand. “Enough. You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But you won’t get another chance. Mr. Wilson, come in!”

A man in a white lab coat walked into the room, holding a strange-looking pocket watch. His expression was serious and focused. Without a word, he bowed respectfully to my parents and to Steve.

Ben’s voice was cold. “Start the procedure. Extract her memories immediately. I want to know where Emily went.”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Wilson replied without hesitation. He moved to the machine, pressed three buttons, and then handed three metal helmets to my parents and Steve.

“Mr. Zeller,” he explained carefully, “once the three of you sit down and put these helmets on, you’ll be able to view the subject’s memories through the built-in visual interface. Based on her brain activity, she’ll only be able to recall three memories. Anything beyond that is extremely dangerous and could cause brain damage, seizures, bleeding, or permanent memory loss.”

“Three times is enough. The first one should be about Emily’s disappearance. She definitely knows something,” Steve said impatiently as he grabbed a helmet and sat down beside me.

Mr. Wilson hesitated. “The subject’s emotions are unstable. I recommend guiding her through hypnosis to help her recall Miss Emily’s disappearance gradually. Forcing it too quickly could be harmful.”

Steve frowned but said nothing. My parents nodded in agreement, letting Mr. Wilson proceed as he saw fit.

A few moments later, all three of them were seated with the helmets in place. Mr. Wilson dimmed the harsh lights and stepped in front of me.

I stared at him numbly, completely still.

He pressed a button on my helmet, and soothing, rhythmic music filled my ears. I felt a cool sensation at the back of my head, as if some liquid had been injected.

“Miss Lily,” Mr. Wilson said gently, “please don’t resist. You know the more you fight it, the more painful it becomes. It’s better to—”

“Alright,” I murmured. My voice was calm, and I let myself relax completely.

Mr. Wilson paused for a moment, clearly surprised, but then focused again. He lifted the pocket watch and slowly swung it in front of my eyes.

“Miss Lily, go to sleep. In your dream, you’ll remember your first meeting with Miss Emily. It was a happy time between sisters.”

His voice was low and hypnotic. My eyes fluttered shut, and within seconds, I drifted into sleep.

Time folded in on itself, and distant memories began to surface, warm and golden, like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

*

I slowly opened my eyes and found myself sitting in a luxury car.

It was Steve’s Maybach S680. He was driving himself, taking my parents, me, and Emily, whom I was meeting for the first time, home with excitement.

Oh. I was dreaming about the first time I went home.

I turned my head and saw Emily beside me. Her bright hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. She held my hand and talked nonstop, her smile warm and easy.

“Wow, you’re so tall, Lily. What are you, like five-five? I’m barely five feet. Guess I’m the short one here,” she said with a playful pout.

Then she looked down at my hands, her expression softening. “You’ve had it rough out there, haven’t you? Your hands are all cracked. You won’t have to do farm work ever again, I promise.”