She, Who Lives in My Memories

She, Who Lives in My Memories

| This story is for the #219 prompt, "Write from the POV of a security guard on the night shift, sitting in front of a wall of CCTV feeds." I missed the entry date, but I felt like I couldn't leave it to collect dust. |

When I wake up, a girl with neatly coiffured black hair permeates my vision. Her thin, lived-in face is visible momentarily as she dances from Camera Twelve to Camera Thirteen, a smile etched into her flesh. Freckles adorn her skin like scattered pen marks, the glow of her cheekbones luminescent like her pores have soaked in all of the sun’s rays. 

She is not yet stricken by what the world has to offer. She is happy. 

The girl shuffles down the screen, moving over to Camera Eighteen and then diagonally, situating herself into the peripheral of Camera Eight. I don’t take note of it. Eight has always been known for glitching every three minutes. My gaze averts to the other twenty-six cameras, the screens blurring as if I’m reading another lousy magazine, my pupils scanning its content before discarding it promptly.

Camera Eight glitches, the penetrating shrill of the static startling me out of my haze. Only then do I notice the hand intertwined with the girl’s. He is clearly the woman’s counterpart, auburn curls framing his face as his lanky frame tumbles after her. 

He also knows little of the world that is yet to come. His happiness lies with the girl in front of him, whom he is grateful to spend time with. 

The couple begins to dance, their bodies woven together like ropes, and I can hear the faint waltz of the orchestra ringing in my ear drums. Their movements are eloquent, like silk sheets swaying in the delicate breeze as they embrace tightly. Long, short, short. Long, short, short. Long, short, short. The heels of their shoes tap and scrape against the floor, and for a minute, it’s all I can visualise before the binary susurrus crackles in my ear again.

I look away, a familiar ache nestling itself into my ribs. It resides there painstakingly, causing me to bend over and clutch my side. The agony is tangible, a solid portion of loneliness nailed into my skin and organs that reek of bloody solitude. My attempt to ignore the aciculate stabbing is futile and cannot pass as a casual stomachache.

Right, the couple. Is Camera Eight still observing them silently? My answer greets me moments later, as Eight glitches before revealing the couple’s location.

She is kissing him with such devout passion that it feels profane for me to watch. Fervently, their lips crash together like meteoroids, the collateral damage their bruised and swollen lips and their mouths like black holes, gulping for snatches of air. Their lungs heave from the density of their fidelity, two entangled souls who have drifted back towards each other despite the vastness of space. The silence buzzes, the camera visuals lacking audio. I can only guess the three words the girl mouths before her head rests on the nook of the boy’s collarbone. I study his expression enviously. 

He is undoubtedly and hopelessly in love with her.

The girl’s head tilts back, strands of her night-sky hair pooling over her jaw, the pallor of her skin masked by the inky whisps of black ribbon. I lose sight of the boy as if transcending into his body, feeling the thin soles of his crumbling, worn Converses and the warmth radiating beneath the girl’s stomach where his hands cusp them lightly. 

For some reason, I know the girl’s name as the boy sinks into her touch, drowning in his desire. Ashlynn. That’s her name. But she liked Ash more. His knees quiver, the water rising to his ankles as he whispers something into her ear, words I oddly know by heart, like the transcript is unrolling before my eyes.

“I love you. God, I love you, Ash. I’m right here, okay? I’m right here.” The boy holds her gently, cradling the beautiful girl before him as Camera Eight captures their every move. His lover is not fragile, he thinks. But she deserves to be protected.

The boy’s (my?) body bends down as the girl whispers something to him (me?) with an empyrean air. Like earlier, I can predict the enunciations of her speech, almost mouthing them back to her like a perfect mirror.

“You have my heart. You own it, and for once, I’m not afraid you will break it like others have. I love you, Theo.” The sound of my name off her lips startles me, reality gyrating and orbiting around me in a flash of colours, dizzying as they blitz past. How did she know my name? My vision narrows before fading to black.

~

When I wake up, a girl with neatly coiffured black hair permeates my sight. Her thin, lived-in face is visible as she dances before me, a smile etched into her flesh. Freckles adorn her skin like scattered pen marks, the glow of her cheekbones luminescent like her pores have soaked in all of the sun’s rays. She dances before me, her smile glowing as she pleads for me to look at the swirling of her skirt. The motion makes my head spin as she whispers my name in my ear.

“Theo. Theo, wake up.”

The sound of static surrounds me like a claustrophobic bubble. That isn’t what I remember Ash saying.

Wait. Wait. I’m not- this isn’t the night shift.

My memory precedes me, and I realise, with shocking horror, that no young couple is kissing in the corner of corridors, with hushed confessions of desire or the girl with jet black hair. She vanishes anteriorly, her beauty dissolving into thin air. I blink hurriedly, trying to make sense of the situation. I saw them. I am confident of it. I spit a curse under my breath, pushing my seat away from the desk. My breathing is ragged as I sprint down to the ground floor.

“No,” I deny to the echoing hallways as my footfalls clammer against the marble loudly. “There were people there. The motion sensor detected them!” 

My outburst comes to a screeching halt when I find the hallway empty. 

“Ashlynn,” I shout pathetically, the noise reverberating across the walls, disrupting the peace of the building. It is coming back to me now. That girl was- 

“Ashlynn!” I repeat as I glimpse a black ribbon fluttering behind a pillar. 

That boy was no stranger.

I was the boy.

I am the boy.

“Ash,” I protest. “Wait, wait!” She disappears from my sight again, flitting between the pillars that hold up the high rise, and my heels ache as I notice dirty Converses replace my new brogue shoes. 

“Oh, Theo,” The girl smiles as if in pain, her mouth strained and twisted with bittersweetness, the cracks in her lips injected with sorrow.

“Ash, I missed you,” I exhale shakily, my bones rattling with every breath. My heart quivers, its fragility bothering me. I lean in to embrace her, but as I do, her body takes on the form of mist, passing through my calloused hands. “No, I need y-”

“Theo, wake up,” Ashlynn whispers, her voice like death passing through the doors of the fallen. ‘Wake up.”

~

When I wake up, I find my body hunched over and aching, my forehead resting on the desk before me. The memory ripples like a stone drifting heavily down to the seabed, droplets of the splashback on my wooden pillow. Tears. I sit up somewhat achingly, trying to process the faultiness of my consciousness. The vividness of my dream lingers like a hallucinatory haunt as I squint at Camera Eight. There is no couple in sight, as to be expected by the usual mind. Despite the unrealisticness of my expectations, I can’t help but feel a sinking disappointment pooling at the bottom of my ribs. 

“Theo,” A gentle voice calls out, and the calcium in my neck splinters as I hurriedly turn to see Ash. 

She’s gone, you idiot.

“Your shift is over,” Hana smiles. “Thanks for taking the eleven to four. It’s always the hardest. The exhaustion, you know? Lately, people claim they see people who aren’t there,” She laughs, unbeknownst to my current state. “Freaky, huh? Anyway, good work. See you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” I murmur a little absently, my footfalls clunky as I walk out. My legs halt without my consent when I pass the corridor Camera Eight covers. 

She’s gone, Theo. Get over yourself.

As I exit the building, the faint melody of her laughter rings in my ear.