(A N)
Hey, ya'll! A group of my friends and I challenged each other to write an amnesia fanfic, and this was the result of my efforts!
~Enjoy
(My worst enemy, is my memory )
The hypodermic needle hovered lazily over my skin. I clenched my fist tightly, forcing my hand to remain steady, and gritted my teeth.
It's just a prick, Amy, that's all. I told myself, firmly. Don't freak out."
The needle flashed in the light, and my stomach began to spin in nauseating, disembodied circles.
Sweat formed on my lip, and I hastily brushed it away, stalling a moment more, before the fateful deed I was about to commit, would obliterate my troubled past.
The vein in my arm pulsed, and I shuddered, my skin curling as the needle grazed the flesh.
What if I give up, right now? I thought in a moment of cowardice. There is still time to replace the potion before anyone notices that it's missing.
I grasped the tiny syringe with feverish energy. No! I screamed mentally. Stop that, you can't back out now!
So much of my plan rested on the contents of the syringe, and I could not allow myself to waste the precious liquid over a rush of anxiety.
I pictured my brother's and Nellie's bewildered, and upset faces when they realized what I planned to do.
What I still WAS planning to do.
Would they feel betrayed by my actions?
I clenched my jaw tightly, blocking out the worries that threatened to destroy my fragile will power.
It doesn't matter how they react, I told myself, I have to do this...For Evan...
Evan Tolliver. Sweet, adorkable Evan. He hadn't deserved his horrific fate.
I closed my eyes with a shudder. I still couldn't envision my boyfriend's cheerful face without a raw, uncontrollable, burst of guilt and heartache ripping away at my soul.
I trembled, remembering the steady flow of blood that poured from his bullet wound, gushing and pouring his life essence onto the cold ground.
My fault he's gone, my fault. I thought, bitterly, hot tears racing down my cheeks.
If only I had never met him, he wouldn't have been in danger. That Vesper bullet should have hit me.
...Why hadn't it hit me?
I allowed the needle's sharp point to dig into my flesh, testing the waters before I fully immersed myself in the action at hand.
There's still time to back out, my selfish side whispered, Someone else can take over; you don't have to do this.
A terrifying thought leaped into my troubled mind, and I froze. What if the potion doesn't work? Sinead had mentioned at dinner last night that the newly developed Ekat memory loss serum was still experimental at best.
I hesitated, listening as my numerous fears voiced themselves.What if something goes wrong?
...What if this has some deadly, unforeseen side-effects? Are you really willing to die?
I frowned, my mind racing. The blue vein in my arm jumped lazily, and I watched its beat with a morbid curiosity.
Was I ready to die?
Gently, I poked at the vein, allowing the sharp sting of the needle to draw a hiss of pain from my lips.
The blood pounded beneath my flesh, and I hesitated...Was it right to mar its rhythmic flow?
...Was it possible that there could be another way out of this mess? One, less drastic, perhaps? Was I really willing to forget my past;... my loved ones... everything?
I envisioned Dan's quirky grins, and Nellie's impromptu dance parties in the kitchen, singing into a zucchini while Dan and I snorted with suppressed laughter. I would lose them forever after this injection.
Even now, the laughter echoed in my memory, and I sighed.
Could I give all of that happiness up?
No. I realized with a calm assurance that I hadn't felt since my boyfriend's death.
"I'm sorry, Evan"..I whispered. "I-I don't think I'm ready to give up my past; not yet."
"Amy, what are you doing?" A suave, accented voice asked in my ear. It was Ian.
I jumped at the unexpected noise, and my thumb, still poised on the plunger, jerked, sending unwanted liquid surging through my bloodstream.
No, this can't be happening. I thought with groan, as my limbs turned to putty. The syringe dropped from my hand, and rolled rapidly under a table.
No, no, no!
"Amy!?" Ian asked in alarm. Then he noticed the needle embedded in my skin. "Oh no." He whispered in shocked realization. "What did you do?"
I groaned, my legs collapsing under my weight. I couldn't answer him; my mouth and mind were jumbled, and everything sounded like it was underwater.
Ian grabbed my shoulders, and shook me violently, jarring my tired senses.
"Don't go to sleep," He commanded, his amber eyes darting frantically. "The poison will consume you faster if you do."
My eyelids fluttered weakly, and I could barely raise them to Ian's grim, worried face.
Exhaustion was overcoming me, and it was becoming a struggle to keep my thoughts straight.
Ian, realizing he was losing me, slapped me desperately across the face. "Merde!" He swore, "Don't you DARE give up on me, Amy Cahill!"
Ian's rich tones sounded faint, and oddly warped to my ears, and my vision zoned into a tunnel-like field.
I couldn't hold on any longer.
The powerful urge to relent, won in the end. This was what I had wanted, after all. I realized with sudden clarity, maybe I am on the right path.
Goodbye, Ian... I thought woozily.
With one last sigh, I closed my eyes, and slipped into a world of quiet, peaceful darkness.