Status: Rated PG-13 because of language used in later chapters and Abre (main character) isn't just a character to me, as she has helped me see my own light, which seems ridiculous I know. But it's true.

Imprinted Years


I may have lost; but I have also won.

I have her; but I fear I’ll lose her.

Out of all of my battles; this is what I must succeed in.

I cannot lose my saviour or my hero.

I won’t, but I will fight.

I promised.

I stare at the beautifully crafted silver necklace in the palm of my hand after retrieving it once again from the floor. I smile, but inside I’m confused. I’m confused as to why she has this.

Why she needed it. Maybe she wanted it.

Maybe I won’t ever know.”

I laugh it off nervously, refusing the urge to ask her about why she carries a piece of me with her. I suddenly feel a wave of happiness when I realise the truth in it all.

She must’ve really missed me.

I look above where I stand, still and silent. I gaze up at the ceiling above my head and wonder how it was put there. Obviously I know the answer to that. I’m not stupid, well I am, but not in general scenarios.

But I remember wondering about how long and how hard workers must have worked to build such a beautiful house that I now stand in. I now breathe in. It saddened me to remember that in 1000, maybe even 100 years time, this house may no longer stand like it does to this day.

It may not stand at all, as everything has to die. Even memories, but I guess they will never be forgotten. Unless I let them be.

“Abre? You okay?” I heard Benedict’s voice reach me and my attention suddenly drifts from the wooden beams above me to him. I see him enter the archway of the door I earlier walked through to get here. Before I dropped the necklace. The locket.

With my face tucked inside.

“I’m f-fine.” I shudder. Stuttering is now becoming natural to me, but how can I fight it?

I wish to be stronger than this.

I have nothing to fear, so why do I?

“Because you are human.”

I’m not and I will never be.

“How sure are you of that, Abre?”

I recognise the teasing, tormenting tone of this voice and I shiver when my senses reveal to me whom it belonged to.


She had imprinted on me, something that most could never imprint upon me.

Remembrance, but she wasn’t like Jessica Marie White. I didn’t remember her because I wished to. I remembered her because it was now natural for me to do so. I shivered, I shuddered, but I recognised the feeling. Almost, like I’d had it before.

But I knew I hadn’t.

“I will never leave you.”

Truth is, I didn’t want her to completely, as I still wished to follow the rules, even though I was no longer playing the game, or so I believed. The rules were to let nature live on. Nature would insist me to remember her, as she imprinted many things upon me. She imprinted her teachings, her words, her ways, but most importantly, herself.

Nature would wish me to remember her, as she is a part of me, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I need her.

I lost control and I let myself fall to my knees. I cry out, but why? Nothing struck me off, or did it? What could it have been?

I found myself thinking over everything that happened over the last few days...


I got stabbed.

I got beaten.

I lost.

I remembered.

I hurt.

I laughed hysterically. I smiled, but it was mostly false to please Benedict, as I did love him and he did make me overwhelmingly happy.

But I could never have been completely ecstatic after all that happened.

The other part of me returned.

We hugged.

I held on to her this time and “I promised.” I promised never to let her down again.

I promised to fight.

So I would.


Maybe I cried as an attempt to fight, but it would be seen as weakness to most. I remembered what we had, so I would never abuse it again, but this did make me weaker emotionally.

If you can call that weakness, I guess.

I call it true strength, as I was being honest with myself, for a change.

“I’m fine. I swear. I-I…”

Promise? Can I promise that? Will I ever be “fine” again?

Will I ever be whole again?

Bare was still an option, but I was too cowardice to even consider it. I’d rather hurt, than welcome it in.

I’d rather suffer than be bare.

How foolish I was.

But at the time I saw hiding as strength. I saw crying as weak. I saw hurt as pain and I saw remembrance as a burden.

None of those were at all correct.

Now I see hiding as my weakness. I see crying as my honesty. I see hurt as my lessons and mistakes. I see remembrance as my past; therefore it is a part of me.

Last but not least, I see life as a lesson.

As I had a lot to learn, therefore, I had a lot to live for.

I still do.

I remember now thinking back, how I now realised when I let myself crawl to the floor and close my eyes, in an attempt to escape the world, that I was actually doing more damage than good.

I should’ve been braver.

I needed to have been stronger, but I just wouldn’t be that way.

I could, I think, because strong is what I am now.

Truly so, but at the time, I refused to let myself deal with it the right way. I hid from light, yet I was now beginning to despise darkness.

So why?

Why suffer so much, just to be a stubborn little… I don’t know anymore.

I was hiding from something.

I was hiding from her.

But I didn’t see at the time how I was hiding from her, when she wasn’t’ actually there. I guess she was in a way, as she was still in my mind. Her voice coursed its way through my veins, my pulse. Silica had become me in parts.

So I could never hide from her completely.

I never saw that.

“Abre, I knew you should’ve rested some more. I’m so- I’m so…”

Sorry? What for? Saving my life, being here for me and loving me for what I am not for the mask I wear?

“What is there to be sorry for, Benedict?” I shook my head, a little too strongly.

I was insane, wasn’t I?

I now rocked back and forth, I closed my eyes, imagined I was in an empty room screaming.

Screaming till my lungs needed air.

I then sung, well, tried to.

I let myself black out.

I let the fire in me die.

I no longer wanted to survive.

I was done for.

I will never be perfect, but I can always move forward. That’s what I now believe, but then, all I thought about was an ending.

Now I strive to prevent it.

What is wrong with me?

What was wrong with me?

What am I?

I remember sitting there, rocking and thinking about the place where I scream, sing and close my eyes for the last time.

It is not like I imagined.

There were no rocks.

There was no ice.

There was no Silica Retnart.

There was no I.

There was only a look alike wearing a mask that fooled even me to be myself, as I could never be her. She was a fool and so was I.

I longed for her ending.

To just scream and that be the end of it.

But life is never that easy, which is a good thing and I see that now.

I am too curious and too natural to let myself die like that. To let the fire burn out, as I simply crave adrenaline too much to let such things happen. I would never have let it end, if I had a chance to stop it, but maybe, when my time does come for me, I will not be able to resist.
Maybe the other side is easier than this life, but if it is, I don’t wish to know it.

It is our struggles that make us human.

I didn’t want to be human, but I didn’t want to be a murderer, a sinner either. Which was ironic, as I used to completely, no arguments whatsoever, believe that most humans were killers, which is why I wished to harm them. Now I was beginning to see how I was the only true sinner amongst Benedict, Molly, Eric, Becky, Jessica and even Silica, as I had the chance to change my ways, but I refused it.

“Now I will not refuse my chances. I will take them with all I have.”

I felt as Benedict’s arms hugging me tight to his chest freed me from my supposed end scene. I see life now as a play or a film, in parts, at least. When we go through different stages in life, whether they’re good or bad, they’re kind of like scenes. They’ll be over soon in some cases, but in others, you have to live through them to seek true benefits. Benefits like true happiness, strength and knowing that you have learnt.

Which is what I wanted overall. To learn, to love, to trust and to live, all of which lead to happiness, strength and acknowledgement.


I turned to see him, so to do this I had to free my hands that were enclosed around my ears, blocking out all life around me. His eyes were filled with immense pain, his smile long gone and his skin white as a ghost. Almost like how Eric was when we saw him that day. But the different was, was that this was my entire fault.

I did this to him; Molly didn’t hurt Eric like this.

“I’m…” Here I was again. I had thought so much in the last few moments. So much it actually made my head hurt and my heart panic, as the thoughts of weakness and true pain had me anxious. But now I didn’t know what to say. Sorry? I had every right to be sorry, but not for the reasons I wished to be. I wanted to be sorrowful, not actually in any means to help. I didn’t want to live on that day. I did want to close my eyes and forget everything else existed. Forget Benedict existed. Jessica.

They were the ones to make me strong, so why did the thought of being around them make me feel so weak? I felt sick with disgust and angst. Why should I get the easy way out of this life?
I deserve to stick it out, no matter how hard it gets. I’ve hurt him. I’ve ditched her. I’ve lied to myself. I’ve even hid from it. It being everything and everyone that mattered, as now I only saw one thing that I believed did matter, which was to be alone. Not exactly peace, as being alone didn’t provide peace at all, which may seem odd, but true. Peace was never existent for me, as I never let it become existent. I hid from that also.

The voices in my head are proof of that.

I had to do something, or say something at least! I couldn’t just sit there and look at him. Even though he was and still is rather attractive.

“No. You need to stand up.”

I shook my head, returning my eyes back to look at the floor beneath us and enclosed my hands around both my ears once again.

“I can’t do this.”

I let tears fall. I let angst burn out, whilst each teardrop hit an item of clothing or the floor beneath us. I let myself break, but only enough to fix myself again. I couldn’t let myself fade. I had to keep fighting. Even if my component wasn’t actually another being, like it was inside of me. I’d still have to fight on. If anything, this would be a harder fight, as this component wasn’t any other being at all. This component was the other part of me.

My demon.

“Do it.”

I thought about resisting, but I then thought deeper into my future, with or without Benedict:
Warm fires, cold winter nights, thick fog dispersing amongst nature’s emerald-green trees, smiling faces, laughing so genuine others laughed alongside, sweet music, calm atmospheres, peace, nature, love, true emotions, truth, a new beginning, children, grandchildren, laughing, singing, smiling, loving their parents and grandparents and last but not least, an ending that I would be happily satisfied with.

A full life: no regrets.

So I did it, even if it had turned out to be a huge mistake, I wouldn’t care.

This life I wish to have is ignorant to regretful emotions.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and face, standing up taller now and faced the door to the room I awoke in not so long ago, though it felt much longer. I didn’t think of what she’d say, her reaction, or whether she’d lie to me or not, as I didn’t need to.

I trusted her.

I let my feet walk forwards. No going back. This was my chance, maybe my only chance, to do this. Why waste it? I knew if I turned my back on this now, on her now, then I would live to regret that.

“A full life: no regrets.”

I found her sat down on the sofa to the right of the door I’d just walked through and I then remembered I was getting their drinks.
I instructed myself to forget about that for a moment and joined her on the sofa, smiling easily whilst I did. This was easy now, as I no longer needed to hide my true emotions. She was like a sister to me. I could trust her.

Even with my life.

I knew exactly what I was saying and doing, but no words seemed to come. I guessed it was nerves, but I wasn’t too sure anymore. Maybe I did still have regrets.

“Of-course you did. You was still human.”

I swallowed hard. I closed my eyes, but then quickly opened them and saw a different girl to the one I was used to seeing. She was same in parts, but in some others different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was that made her appear this way. I then realised that she was crying. I’d never seen this side of her.

Distraught, empty and cold, but not cold as in callousness, this was very different. She was broken, but why? She seemed hurt, but how?

“She can read minds.”


She would know about how I’d fallen. How I’d broken, but brought myself back together once again. Still though, I had broken. We were both unique, different and dependent emotionally on one another, therefore if one breaks, so does the other.

I had broken her.

When she saw me, she broke from the state I knew only too well. Hands tightly enclosed around ears, eyes shut, blocking everything and anything around us out. I wanted to comfort her, but she didn’t wish for me to see her like this. Just like I didn’t want her to see me like that. We were similar in more ways than one.

Both of us stubborn, yet wildly concerned about the other, as we were unique and no one else could ever be like us. We knew what it really felt like to know true darkness; most will never have to, which I still don’t know whether it’s better or worse that way.

When you have lived in darkness, it is harder to adjust to light, but when you are ignorant to such pain and sorrow, light can almost be dangerous.

Depends on how lucky you are, really.

When I pretended to smile and acted like I didn’t just witness a part of her breakdown, I turned to her. She was shaking, well; she had been, as I could see she was trying to keep it together. Taking deeper breaths and pulling tight on the sleeves of her hoodie, which I knew all to well meant that you’re nervous or anxious. She had seen me break; now I had to pretend I never saw her do so.

I was afraid of honesty, destined to have many burdens and too used to lying. Could I ask her this? Would I cower out of it? The things that had me burdened were at my own doing. Maybe I no longer had the strength to tell the truth, or ask for it, anyway. I had spent many years in darkness, did that really mean that I could never be truthful ever again?

Maybe I was already broken and this time, no one could fix me. Never would I be fixed…