Memories From a Dead Girl
Eight
His lips found mine in the dark, his hands on my waist, thumbs on my hipbones. I sighed into his mouth and tangled my fingers in his hair. When he pressed closer to me and whispered that he loved me, I dug my fingers into his scalp in response.
Opening my eyes, I took in my surroundings. The memory was broken, and I was pulled back into the present, into the police station, into the cell where Austin was sitting. He stared at the wall, almost as if he was looking at me.
"Tell me what happened," I said. "Tell me what you remember. Please."
Opening my eyes, I took in my surroundings. The memory was broken, and I was pulled back into the present, into the police station, into the cell where Austin was sitting. He stared at the wall, almost as if he was looking at me.
"Tell me what happened," I said. "Tell me what you remember. Please."