It started with a pencil.
A plain, short, slightly chewed pencil at the edge of my desk that I didn’t remember owning. Maybe someone left it. Or maybe it was mine and I just forgot. Either way, I was staring at it for minutes, like it held some secret I was supposed to know.
The classroom around me was quiet—free period. Some were sleeping on their arms, others tapping their phones under their desks. I had my sketchpad again, just like the ones I used to fill with random shapes and broken hearts.
But this time, I didn’t draw a broken heart.
I didn’t even realize what I was sketching until I paused and looked down.
A boy.
Dark hair. Gentle smile. A scar over his left brow. Soft eyes.
I stared at the drawing and felt something sink in my chest. My fingers trembled a little.
Who…?
I didn’t know. But I knew I knew him.
I quickly flipped the page and closed the sketchpad. My hands were cold. My breathing felt strange.
Why does he look so familiar?
---
Flashback hit.
It wasn’t clear. Not yet. Just flashes.
The way grass felt against my feet.
The sound of laughter. Mine, I think.
And a voice saying,
"If you forget me… I’ll just find a way to make you remember again, Sky."
I flinched.
My head started to hurt. My chest tightened again. Like I was trying to pull something from the back of my mind, but it wasn’t ready to be remembered. Like it wanted to stay buried.
But for how long?
---
Later that day, I headed back to the dorms early.
The others were still in class or somewhere else, and I just… needed air. A place to breathe without questions. I dropped my bag by my bed, pulled off my jacket, and just sat on the edge of the mattress, eyes blank.
Then I noticed it.
A white envelope.
No name. No handwriting. Just… there. Sitting on my pillow.
My hands moved before my mind did.
I opened it slowly. Inside, one single photo.
I blinked.
My fingers held it tightly.
It was… me. A tiny version of me. Standing under a big tree with a swing tied to it. And next to me—was him.
The boy from the drawing.
He was holding my hand.
We looked happy. Safe.
But someone had taken a thick red marker and crossed a big "X" over his face.
I dropped the photo on the floor.
My legs shook.
This wasn’t just some prank.
This was a message.
---
Bianca’s POV
“What I Can’t Unsee”
The hallway was empty when I stepped out of the library. Just my shoes echoing against the marble floors. I had my phone clenched in my hand like it could explain everything if I squeezed it hard enough.
I should’ve told someone sooner.
I should’ve said something the moment I noticed Skylar's name in the files.
But I didn’t.
And now it’s probably too late.
---
I sat on the edge of the school fountain. It wasn’t running today—maintenance or something—but the silence made it feel heavier, like even the water didn’t want to hear what I was about to say.
I pulled out my phone. I went to the hidden folder.
A list of files. Documents I copied during my time as part of the student research unit. I wasn’t supposed to access it—but I did. Because I was looking for someone else entirely. I was looking for Ethan.
But instead… I found her.
Skylar Aven Reyes.
Date of Birth. Blood type. Records. Class lists. Emergency contacts.
And one red-tagged file that I had to unlock with three different passwords.
Project AVEN.
It wasn’t a name. It was an experiment.
A test subject.
A student flagged for “involuntary memory reconfiguration.”
No wonder she can’t remember anything.
---
My hands were shaking as I scrolled down again.
Each time I read the file, it felt worse.
She wasn’t supposed to know. She wasn’t even supposed to survive it.
They erased her past.
For what? Control? Revenge? A test?
I didn’t know the full story. The file cut off with one sentence that haunted me more than anything:
"If Subject Aven reconnects with Trigger Z, memory restoration is highly probable. Initiate Phase Two."
Trigger Z?
Who?
Ethan? Aiden?
I don’t know. But something told me… it’s already begun.
---
My phone buzzed.
A message. Unknown number.
Unknown: "We know what you’re doing. Stop snooping, Bianca. Before you become the next ghost."
I stared at it. Cold washed down my spine.
I typed back.
Me: “Who are you?”
No reply.
Just three dots… that never turned into words.
I turned my phone off.
And for the first time in forever, I felt afraid of knowing the truth.
---
I looked up—and saw Skylar standing at the edge of the field.
She looked lost.
Holding a photo in her hand.
And for a second, I almost walked up to her. I almost told her everything.
That I know why she keeps dreaming about a boy she doesn’t remember.
That I know what they did to her.
But I didn’t.
Because once I open that door, there’s no going back.
And I’m not sure if Skylar’s ready to know just how much she’s forgotten.