Hey! Just watched Remember Me and cried my eyes out. Well, here's a story inspired by it, but it does not take place in 2001. That's too sad. But the main guy is still played by Robert Pattinson. So, here we go.

Tragedy

Love lies within the heart. But with love comes hate and with hate comes jealousy.
~Ashley Palmisano (me)

1999

"Momma, when is this train going to come?" I groaned, plopping down on a bench at the train station. We were on our way home, where daddy was.

"It should be here in a couple of minutes, honey," she said. "Black or White" by Michael Jackson came on. I stood on the bench, pretending to play the guitar. Momma laughed and grabbed my hands, twisting me around and twirling me like we always do. I just loved my Momma like that.

"I took my baby on a Saturday bang.
Boy is that girl with you?
Yes we're one and the same.
Now I believe in miracles,
And a miracle has happened tonight!
But, if you're thinkin' about my baby,
It don't matter if you're black or white!"

I heard two deep chuckles in the empty station. I looked over suddenly to see two men walking toward us. They didn't look dangerous, so I kept singing to the Pop King. The men laughed more.

"You're alright, kid," one said. He looked Mexican, with a deep tan and dark hair and eyes. His friend had brown hair and warm, playful green eyes.

"Sorry, I can't talk to strangers," I smiled.

"It's okay, honey, as long as I'm here," Momma said, smiling. "I'm Bianca."

"And I'm Max," I said. "It's short for Maxine."

"Nice to meet you both," the brunet said. "I'm Sam and this is Milo." I waved at them just as the train came. I hopped down from the bench.

"Maybe we'll meet again, Madame Maxine," Sam said royally, bowing and kissing my hand. I giggled and curtseyed. He was cute and obviously way older than me.

"We shall, Sir Samuel," I said just as regally. He chuckled and the door opened. There was a man standing in it. He was pointing a gun at us. Momma's eyes widened and she pushed me behind her just as the man pulled the trigger and I heard 3 gunshots and two thuds. Momma was still standing but was swaying a bit. The man looked at me and pointed the gun at me. Momma moved me again as he pulled the trigger. It got me in the waist and I screamed as the doors closed. Momma fell, dead.

"Momma! Momma! Sam! Milo! Wake up! Wake up, please!" I cringed as the pain in my side increased, the blood making my Michael Jackson t-shirt wet. I looked at my friends' and my mother's bodies and decided that if there was any chance of saving them, if they weren't really completely dead, then I had to get help. I hobbled up the steps and out into the open, where thousands of New Yorkers were clustering on the sidewalks. "Help!" I screamed. A woman and man holding hands turned toward me and their eyes widened.

"Oh my! What happened?" the woman asked, kneeling down to inspect the damage.

"My Momma! She's dying! So are two other men! They were shot! Please help!" I cried, tears and snot mixing together grossly.

"Okay, honey, calm down. Where are they?" she asked.

"In the subway. Please help them!"

"Okay, we will." The man picked me up, shooting waves of pain up my spine. "Oh my Jesus." The woman covered her mouth, her eyes wide when she saw the blood and bodies. The man put me down on the bench and went to check them out. After touching all of their wrists and necks, he shook his head sadly.

"They're gone. I'm sorry," he said. My eyes widened and I jumped down from the bench a little faster than what was healthy for my current state.

"No! They can't be dead!" I exclaimed. I looked down at my mother, her blue eyes vacant, her bleach blond hair matted and bloodstained. Then I looked at Sam, his once playful green eyes as dull as a burnt out light bulb, his brown hair knotted up and now more of a really dark red. I laid between them, crying as the two people called the police and paramedics. I fell asleep. I woke up in a beautiful place, with green fields and flowers and trees everywhere you looked; definitely not New York.

"Max, go back!" I heard Momma yell. She was standing by a tree, along with Sam and Milo.

"You're not dead?"

"We are, honey," she said sadly. "But you can still go back! Go!"

"No, I want to stay with you!" I exclaimed.

"You'll see me again. I promise," she said.

"Air swear?" I asked.

"Air swear." She cupped air in her hands and pretended to smash it over her head. I waved bye to them and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, there were a bunch of people around me in nurse outfits. They were pumping my chest and giving me oxygen, trying to revive me.

"She's awake!" a woman breathed. She was surrounded by yellow.

"Hey, why are you all yellow?" I asked, passing my hand through the light around her.

"You're probably just seeing things, honey," she said softly, and I somehow knew I had died.

"Okay, yeah," I nodded. "I died and came back. That might cause someone to have hallucinations, right?" She looked at me weird, probably because I know a big word. I just shrugged. "I like to read." She smiled and nodded.

"Okay, hun, you'll be here for a while. In the mean time, work on getting rid of those mirages, 'kay?" a man said. It was the guy who'd told me my mom was dead.

"Will do," I nodded and they hooked some stuff up to me and then leaving, saying they'd check in with me every hour.

Oh but those weren't hallucinations. I could see, what I later read about, auras. They were lights around people that tell their emotions, character traits, and more. I could also read minds, which explained how I'd known I'd died. I'd read the nurse's mind. I'd been 10 when I died and came back. I was 12 when I figured out how to block certain things out. At the same age I found out I could know the history of items and people by touch, which I found out when I stepped into the perimeter if the Twin Towers after they'd been knocked down and I got an instant replay of the plane crashing from, like, ten different angles. I was 14 when it came in handy when my first boyfriend started screwing around with my so-called "best friend". Cheater Cheater bestfriendeater. I was 16 when I started being able to control the elements. So you could say I'm a freak in disguise as a party girl with awesome grades. By the time I was in college at NYU, I had two reps: know-it-all and party girl, which really don't mix well, when you think about it. But when you can touch a book and suddenly know all about whatever, it's not hard to be an A student.