Every time I think of him, of Sylar, there's a bitter taste in my mouth, and my head starts to ache. Thinking of him just makes the bad memories come and it takes too much trouble to block them all over again.
The flashes of smiles, of his kind eyes, the kisses, so light and happy, they just make me sick.
The memories come and bits and pieces, but somehow the ones I remember more clearly are the ones that caused me the most pain.
"Jamie, get your butt out here! I told you to take out the trash."
I was breathless and covered in many things, flour to egg. It was a rough job, play mother to a boy only seventeen, but the boy himself made it easy.
The smell hit me like a cement wall, the thick and copper smell of blood. As the door flew open, walls, every one of was covered in red, hand prints.
"Jamie!"
My cries came out as whispers; my throat felt like someone was standing on it, cutting off my wind pipes. The bag filled to the brim with his favorite cookies crashed to the floor, rolling right into the puddles of blood.
His body was barely two inches away from my feet, and so was the killer himself, every part of him coated in the red liquid. He whipped around when he heard my small gasp, and my eyes just grew larger along with my terror.
"Gabriel."
My mind seemed to break down, everything was blurry, nothing seemed real, and everything seemed to be spinning.
He tried to catch me, hug me tightly with his bloody hands, and whisper sorry, but a blue shimmering thing separated us.
I ran till the streets didn't look familiar and my feet felt like they were going to fall off.
Memories, they haunt us every hour, every minute of the day. Never leaving us and never letting us rest in peace.