Page 10 of Pocketful of Us

"You're in denial, Jacob." Dad choked out another wheezy cough. "And that's my fault, not yours. You were conditioned to forget your past. It's the reason you're alive today."

Like a cruel twist of fate, images of a raven-haired woman flashed through my mind, causing my heart to thud violently and my stomach to churn.

Accompanying those images was the unforgettable smell of burning flesh, the feeling of sheer helplessness, and the sound of screaming.

"Mama loves you, Giacobbe."

Locked doors.

"No, Papa, don’t go!"

Whiskey colored eyes.

"Sketch likes to Sketch."

Red ribbons.

"What are you doing to me?" I strangled out, dragging my hands through my hair. "How are you doing this?"

"I'm not doing anything," Dad replied, ignoring the others as he concentrated entirely on me. "You're remembering all on your own."

"Please, not my son…"

Blood and smoke...

"Want a cookie?"

Flesh burning.

"I'll be your friend."

The girl.

"What's your name, boy?"

The girl.

"Who are you?"

The girl.

"Who is your father?"

The girl.

"Close your eyes, Giacobbe. Do not watch!"

The girl.

"No, Mama, no!"

Angel…

"Make it stop!" I demanded, clenching my eyes shut as memories of another lifetime flashed through my broken mind. I was terrified of the memories – the ones screaming at me toremember."Please… just make it fucking stop!"

"I know this is hard for you, but you need to hear me, Jacob. You need to take this in. It's time for you to remember who you are and where you came from."

"I can't," I cried out hoarsely, breathing erratic. "I don’t want to know any of this. I just want Romi."

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