Photographs

*Phoenix*

I woke up in my bed on Saturday morning. The past week felt like a dream. I reached under my low bed and pulled out my photo album. My fingers stroked the black leather cover. I felt my eyes go out in a haze. I think I might cry now.

I force myself to toughen up and open the book. I turned to the last page. Omi, Ayame, and I stood in a photo together. They’re real. I looked at those photos. Yep, they’re real. I looked at the other page. Orochi held me in some others. He’s real too.

I gently touched my lips. I thought about that kiss. He and I in a bond. I felt my body go cold. There is something off about him. It feels like he wants to rape me or something. I don’t really know.

I looked through my pictures once the shock wore off. Most of my life was in this book. This helped with my memories. Katie’s idea, really. She told me it helped to remember that way. Judging by these photos alone, I have met so many people in my life.

Then, I saw that damned burn. Number twenty-two. A path opened up in my mind again. I felt my right shoulder. I still have it. Number twenty-two. I reached into the album pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. I opened it up and read it.

7= Ayame

21= Omi

22= Me

Right. I begin to remember my mission. I have found other doomed ones. I have to find the other thirty-four.

“Phoenix, honey!” my mom called from downstairs. “I have your breakfast!”

I looked at the door. “I’ll be down in a moment.” Silence. I kept eyes low to the pages in my lap. My mother… I don’t want to talk about her. I’ll eat later, don’t worry.

I just sat on my bed and viewed my memories and case. Just stall until she goes back to bed. Typical morning at my house, really.

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