My Eros (Modern Cupid and Psyche Dirty)

The world is still bouncing. But I no longer feel myself bouncing with it.

A man still has me in his arms, but this time my perspective has changed, and it now feels like I'm merely watching myself.

My consciousness has started to separate itself from my subconscious, and so the only thing left for me to do is—-

PUSH.

My eyes squeeze back shut involuntarily as I strain myself.

Push, push, push!

I strain as hard as I can, but it's my own brain that's resisting me, my own brain insisting that it's impossible to push when your own body isn't corporeal, and the whole world you're in isn't real. My brain insists that I should give up, but I can't. I mustn't. This is my only chance, so...

Push harder, Halyna! PUSH!

To counter the logical approach of my brain, I make myself imagine I'm trapped inside a spider's web. Envision the air around me thinning until I'm gasping for breath. I need to think, I need to feel this is my last chance at living. I need to believe I'm about to die so I can—

PUUUUUUUUUUSH.

My consciousness finally destroys the last tendril that chains it to this world of memories, and just like the professor also said it would—-

Time grinds into a standstill, and the man holding me freezes mid-motion just as I feel myself bursting out of an unseen cocoon.

I can almost feel my body physically manifesting itself, one cell after another. This world might still not be real, but I am, and it's because I'm finally real...

"Professor?"

My voice comes out in an awkward croak. It just feels so suicidal to call out loud when the man with red eyes is right here next to me, but barely a moment passes when I hear the professor speak.

I can hear you.

It's almost similar to how my god communicates with me. Just louder and less private, with his words echoing around me like there are invisible speakers transmitting his voice.

"Am I drooling out there?" Since I hate making small talk, hearing myself doing it tells me I'm more anxious than I thought, and when I hear the professor chuckle, my body sags as air actually whooshes out of my lungs, and it's only then I realize I've been tense and holding my breath this entire time.

Are you alright there?

Is he kidding me? How can I be alright when the man with red eyes is frozen right next to me? How can I feel alright when he's still holding another version of myself captive? The look of desperation and fear on Memory Me is painful to see, and even though my brain knows what I'm seeing here is the past - it isn't even real, for heaven's sake -

Facts mean shit at this moment, and my heart feels like it's about to explode out of my chest.

I can't be alright with everything here feeling so damnably real, I can't possibly be alright with my knees already shamefully quaking under me as more insidious thoughts start poisoning my mind.

The professor may hear me, but that's all he can do right now. He isn't really seeing what I'm seeing, won't be able to warn me ahead of time if an attacker comes up behind me. He won't even see me fighting for my life if it somehow comes down to that.

All he can do is hear me, but what if I don't even have time to scream?

Terror curdles in my stomach, but because it's simply not my style to act like a baby, I force myself to directly confront my fears and just be done with it.

Ever so slowly, I turn my gaze to the man with red eyes, and my skin crawls even as he remains unmoving in front of me. His head is slightly lowered, his left foot frozen mid-air above the next step. I look around, and it eventually dawns on me at what exact point of my memory I've revisited.

Shit, shit, shit.

In a little while, Memory Me will make a futile attempt to escape him, and the knowledge that I'll have to relive that moment makes me feel like throwing up. The trauma of that night hasn't really ever left me. It's been a constant shadow in the back of my mind, and I doubt it would ever go away, even if I were to succeed in unmasking this man and make him pay for his sins.

If it were just me, I'd rather forget everything. Pretend it never happened. But that choice has been taken away from me. That choice stopped being a choice the moment I found out he's started killing again, and I just know...

Deep in my guts, I know.

Whatever that man's fucked-up reason is for killing Myrrha—-

I know it has something to do with me, and I know the man with red eyes can use the exact same reason to kill my parents next.