Page 13 of A Whisper of Cinders

“I…”

I blink, try to respond to her question, but my vision blurs and I tumble into a rabbit hole.

I stand barefoot on smooth floorboards, my skin tingles from the change in temperature. A coat hangs by the door, a worn chair stands next to the hearth and I believe I have touched that table before. The room feels familiar, I’m just not sure how or why.

Yet, something feels…off.

The temperature is too hot, uncomfortable even. Sweat runs down my neck into the pyjamas I’m wearing. I blink and the light becomes impossibly bright, the air dry all of a sudden and that smell…

Smoke swirls in my lungs, and I desperately search for air to breathe. I cough to let air flow through, but it does nothing to relieve the pressure that builds in my chest, to let air flow through.

Heat bites at my skin, so much now that it becomes painful. And when a loud crack sounds from behind me, I know I don’t want to turn around, but somehow I have to.

I turn.

All I see is fire, consuming everything in its wake.

“Maily!”

Miss Sophia’s voice pulls me back into the present, or maybe it was the shaking of my shoulders that did the trick. Whatever that was, my body is still caught up in fight or flight mode, unsure if I have escaped the horror that was about to happen. My fingers dig into the edge of the sofa, trying to find some footing.

After all these years… a memory resurfaced. I thought I would be happy. Finally remembering something about the life I lived before arriving at Anima.

But the fire, the smoke I inhaled… What does it mean?

“I…I saw a house, or, no. A room,” I murmur. “Flames were everywhere, licking up the walls and I…I was standing in the middle of it.”

I let out a shaky breath and try to calm my galloping heart. Miss Sophia remains silent, which is very unlike her. She watches me, but her body is tense, as if she too is on high alert. Right when I’m about to beg her to say something, she speaks. “Can you remember anything else? What did the room look like, have you been there before? What were you feeling?”

I swallow hard, my throat somehow sore and dry. I don’t remember anything, not a single detail. Only a feeling.

“Home. It felt like home.”

And I know that makes no sense, because if it were my home, I should remember that, right? But as soon as I have spoken the words, I know it’s a certainty, not a feeling.

Miss Sophia closes her notebook. I didn't even know she was taking notes, as she folds her hands in front of her. “I believe that is enough for today.”

“What does it mean, Miss Sophia? Is it some kind of metaphor?”

She weighs her words carefully and takes a nerve-wracking amount of time to answer. “I cannot say for certain, but whatever it may be, your mind just opened its first door.”

So it is a memory. She didn’t say it with that many words, but surely that is what she means, right?

“This is progress Maily, it’s a positive thing.”

But if it’s a good thing, why is she so tense all of a sudden? The urge to ask her to dig deeper is all consuming, but the throbbing headache that is already surfacing makes me hold my tongue. Now is not the time, I should give myself a break.

I thank her and tell her goodbye as I leave her office behind. Miraculously, there is still some time left before lunch and diving into a book sounds like a very good idea, to hopefully give my mind a much needed break.

Calling it a library feels very generous. It’s really just a walk-in closet with a few bookcases shoved in. Two shelves stand on either side of me, and the aisle between them is just wide enough for me to walk through it without my shoulders brushing the spines.

There aren’t many people who read here in Anima, so this modest collection is more than enough for most of them. Me on the other hand, has read every book in this room more times than I can count.

Still, I’m not complaining. These stories, familiar as they are, offer a quiet kind of freedom. A way to leave this place behind, if only for a little while.

I reach for a book at random, a romance this time. They might just be my favourite genre. I’ve never experienced love myself, the passionate kind at least, but reading about it sometimes comes pretty close to feeling it.

The common room is situated on the first floor and although it isn’t that cosy, there is a very comfy seat with my name on it. Worn out leather and a small bench to rest your legs on. It’s all that I need. Snow falls down the sky as I pass one of the windows and it creates the perfect reading aesthetic. Or, almost perfect at least.