Chapter 20: The Lonely Boy

The light suddenly came back. I was still in the piano room. Evian was standing next to me. But something was different. The sofas were no longer in the middle of the room. They were pushed to the side between the planters. The sun was shining, the air was uncomfortably hot and humid. In front of us, a small boy of 3 or 4 years of age, sat on the floor reading a book I immediately recognized. The same book Eli had given me. I leaned over his shoulder. The young boy was tenderly running his fingers over the picture of the yellow bird. I looked up at Evian.

“Yes, that’s me,” he said before I could ask. “And that women over there by the window, that’s our mom. These are fragments of my memory.”

“Is it a Heighten Characteristic?” I probed.

“Yes and no. It was never meant to be a characteristic. At least I don’t think it was. But somehow, a few who were infected, were able to obtain this ability. It has since become the most sought after Heighten Characteristic. Of course, very little is known about this. It was all done in secret. No real study has been conducted. And since the official stance of the government dictates that the procedure never existed, this characteristic too, officially does not exist.”

“Yet here I am,” I thought, out loud. “The rumors were true; mind manipulation is possible.”

The little boy got up. Quickly glanced at his mom. She was busy, her mind wandering beyond the window. He quietly slipped out of the room, book in hand.

We followed him.

The little boy crossed the entire hallway and stopped in front of a closed door. He put his ear against it and gently knocked.

“Lili? Lili? You wake?”

No answer came.

The little boy sighed. The sadness on his face would have tugged on anyone’s heart strings.

He knocked again.

Still no answer.

Just as he was about to go, he took his book and squeezed it underneath the door. The corner lifted a little, damaging the cover. He had a hard time getting it to fit, but with clumsy determination, he managed. A smile lit up his face as he happily hop-skipped back to the piano room.

“Why are you showing me this?” I asked suspicious of his motive.

“I thought you might like to know who Hana, or Lianna, was. And I guess, this is my way of saying goodbye to her,” he answered tenderly.

Everything went dark. I braced myself for another jolt of pain, but the headache never came. In a flash, we found ourselves outside, down by the main gate. The exact scene I had seen countless times in my dreams. The house, the fields, and a young boy of 11 or 12, standing lonely to one side. Something felt different about this memory. It couldn’t be Evian’s memory. It just felt so far away, so removed. Like watching an old movie being played. But no one else was around.

“Whose memory is this?” I asked.

“It’s Lianna’s. The day she left, as she stood by the gate and walked away.”

There was so much sadness in the air. I had never noticed it before. Everything felt heavy. My chest tightened.

“I have my own memory of that day, of her departure. But somehow it is her perspective that stuck with me,” he confessed.

“The same scene I dreamt about for years. But how? How did she do it?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think she did anything. At least not willingly. This day must have been particularly hard for her.”

“You think so?” I said arrogantly. “I mean you cold heartedly killed mom and dad, in front of her. Yeah, that’s what I would call a hard day.”

Evian got quiet again. I had a point. Still, this did not explain how we could have access to her memories. And of course, now that she was dead, we couldn’t exactly go and ask her.

Evian broke the silence first: “I did what I had to do. We’ve all made mistakes. Somehow, I think mine were the least of them. Lianna hung on to this memory. I always wondered why. I don’t know how both of us ended up seeing it in our dreams, but deep down, I think it was her way of reaching out to us. I think she wanted to be with us. She wanted us to be a family. She just didn’t know how. She could have hung on to the memory of the murder, but instead she chose the last image she had of the family house, of her little brother. These she kept close to her heart. Of course, I might be wrong. But I’d rather believe in the good of it. Makes it less of a burden to me.”

“Less of a burden? You talk like you’ve been the victim all along! Your sister… our sister was the victim. Not you. And now you seek redemption? Is that why you brought me here? First you set up a meeting and don’t even show up! Then, you have your government guards try to kidnap me. When that fails, you isolate me from my friends. You kill my friends. Then you bring me here. And somehow, I’m supposed to trust you? I’m supposed to trust that what you are showing me is the truth! I can’t. I just can’t! I didn’t need to be saved! I will not let you have the satisfaction of redemption. Never!”

And just like that I found myself back in the piano room. Standing exactly where our travel had started. I was dizzy and seeing black spots. It was the same feeling you get after hitting your head. I stumbled back to the sofa. Rubbing my forehead helped a little, but the room was still spinning around me.

Evian hesitantly handed me a sandwich.

Eating was the last thing on my mind right now.

“Eat,” he said. “It will help you get back to normal. You are just not use to it. It takes up a lot of your energy. Eat, then get to bed.”

And that was it. He was done.

I still had so many questions for him. I had to calm down. I had to be rational, in control, seizing any opportunity to find out more.

As he was about to leave, I said: “Wait! I need to know. Can you share your memory with just anyone?”

“Yes, that seems possible.”

“And can you visit anyone’s memory?”

I needed to know more.

“So far, it has always worked for me.”

“Can you do it without the person knowing you are doing it?”

He smirked.

“Yes, with practice it is possible to go into a person’s mind without that person noticing your presence. But you don’t have to worry, it seems that you have some sort of a defense mechanism against it.”

“The headache!” I blurted out.

“Possibly.”

“And if one was to get into someone’s head without warning, could that person alter the person’s memory?”

Evian didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared into my eyes. He frowned too. I waited, staring straight back at him.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes. It is possible to go into someone’s head and alter their memories.”

I risked myself and asked: “And how do you know that?”

“I know that because I’ve done it.”

“You have?”

“Many times.”

His cocky side was starting to show up again.

I was about to ask more questions, when he abruptly stopped me and said with a smile: “As I said, you’d better get to bed. You’re tired. And tomorrow we are off early. There is someone I want you to meet.”

“Wait!” I begged again.

He stood quiet, staring at me.

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because if you don’t, you are as good as dead. And I promised Lianna I’d keep you alive.”