Rage fuels my steps as I search every face of villagers.

Someone has stolen a memory, one that I often looked back at and cherish more than my own soul.

I _need_ to back, more than anything.

Everytime a memory is sold, the person only ever has a fading, vague sense of the memory.

I can only recall a cold summer morning and the heavy feeling of sadness.

One can find who bought their memories due to a trail of light which will evidently lead them to their memory.

Many people who freely sell their memories cut the trail of light and lose their memories forever.

But some follow it in seek of reclaiming it.

That is what I am doing.

I follow the trail of light hastily, until it suddenly stops at the end of the dock.

The person must be on a boat.

I scan the docks and find one boat swaying with a vague light around it.

There it is.

I rush to the boat and jump on board.

A sword immediately is at my throat.

“I knew you’d come,” said a deep voice from the shadows.

“Give me back what is mine!” I shout, careful to not move.

A man, tall and strong, steps from the shadows. He lowers his sword.

And my sister walks beside him, with a look of dread and sorrow.

“Marla? What-what are—“

“I had to!” She cries, “I had to take that horrid memory from you!”

“It was not your choice!” I yell back, feeling more than betrayed.

Pure anguish fluttered on Marla’s face. She tried to step close to me in an attempt to comfort, but I step back and say in a vile tone, “Stay away from me.”

I then bring my attention to the man, who had been silently observing while still holding my memory.

“And who are you?” I command, staring daggers at him.

He smirks, lighting up his handsome arrogant face.

“I was hired by your sister to steal the memory and drag you here,” he says in a perky, deep voice.

“And why would you lead me here?”

“To do this.” In a sudden motion, the man takes my memory and clasps it in his hands. He lights a match and holds it near.

He is going to destroy the memory…forever it will be lost.

“NO!” I shout, but it is too late.

The flame lights the memory on fire and it turns to ash.

“No!” I shout in pure agony. “Mom, no Mom, don’t leave me again!”

Tears fall from my eyes in torrents. Pain seizes me. It is like grieving all over again.

The man’s face suddenly turns sorrowful, and Marla’s is filled with pure regret.

From the ash, a single stream of smoke rises.

I lost the memory of the last moment with Mom before she died, and now it has died along with her.

I will never forgive, for I can never forget.