"Evelyn?" a voice interrupted, pulling her back to reality. She turned to see Detective Cole Stanton standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable. Cole had been a constant presence in her life ever since the accident six months ago. The accident that had stolen her past.
"Lost in thought?" he asked, sitting beside her. He was dressed in his usual navy trench coat, a steaming cup of coffee in hand.
"Something like that," Evelyn replied, forcing a smile. She didn't tell him about the dreams. She barely understood them herself.
Cole studied her for a moment before speaking. "We found another one."
Evelyn’s breath caught. "Another victim?"
He nodded. "Same pattern. Wiped clean."
The Memory Thief had been terrorizing the city for months. Victims were found alive but utterly hollow—stripped of their memories and identities. The media was ablaze with theories, each more outlandish than the last. But for Evelyn, it was personal. She’d woken up in a hospital bed six months ago with no memory of who she was. The doctors had called it amnesia. She wasn’t so sure anymore.
Evelyn traced her fingers over the jagged scar on her temple, a reminder of the night her life had unraveled. She stared at the photograph Cole had handed her. The victim was a young man, his vacant eyes staring at nothing. His name was Nathan Carter. Or at least, it had been before someone erased him.
"Do you think it’s connected to me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Cole hesitated. "I don’t know. But the timing—it’s too much of a coincidence."
Evelyn’s head swam. The victims all shared a common thread: they were talented, brilliant individuals with bright futures. Artists, scientists, writers. And now, they were shells.
She’d been an investigative journalist before the accident. At least, that’s what Cole had told her. But her old notebooks and files felt like they belonged to a stranger. She’d lost not only her memories but also the instinct that had once driven her.
Until now.
Evelyn returned home, her apartment bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun. She sat at her desk, spreading out the photos and case files Cole had shared. As she studied them, a pattern began to emerge. The victims’ lives overlapped in subtle ways: a shared university, a mutual acquaintance, a community event. But one name stood out.
Dr. Marcus Vance.
He was a neuroscientist specializing in memory research and had given lectures at the university most of the victims had attended. Evelyn’s heart raced as she typed his name into Google. The results flooded in: awards, groundbreaking studies, interviews. But one article caught her eye. “The Ethics of Memory Manipulation: A Debate with Dr. Marcus Vance.”
The article detailed Vance’s controversial research into extracting and implanting memories. Critics had called it dangerous. Some had even called it impossible. But what if it wasn’t?
Evelyn didn’t tell Cole about her discovery. She knew he’d try to stop her. Instead, she found herself outside Vance’s lab late that night, the building’s windows dark. She picked the lock on the side door, her heart pounding with every click. Inside, the air smelled sterile, like chemicals and cold metal.
Rows of monitors lined the walls, displaying images of brains and neurons. Evelyn’s eyes locked onto a folder sitting on a desk. She opened it, revealing profiles of the victims, including her own photo.
Before she could process the implications, a voice cut through the silence. "I was wondering when you’d find me."
She spun around to see Dr. Vance standing in the doorway, a syringe in his hand.
Vance smiled, his expression unnervingly calm. "You were my greatest experiment, Evelyn. A prototype."
Her blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?"
"You wanted the truth, didn’t you?" he said, stepping closer. "I perfected a way to extract memories, to erase pain, to give people a fresh start. But the side effects were... unpredictable. Some, like you, retained fragments. Others... not so much."
Evelyn’s mind raced. "Why me?"
"Because you were willing," Vance said simply. "You came to me after the accident, desperate to forget. I just took a little more than you asked for."
The room seemed to tilt. Evelyn backed away, her hand searching for something—anything—to defend herself. Her fingers closed around a heavy paperweight.
"You ruined lives," she said, her voice trembling with rage.
"I gave them peace," Vance countered, his voice steady. "And I can give it to you again."
But Evelyn wasn’t the same woman who had walked into his lab months ago. She raised the paperweight and brought it down with all her strength. Vance crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
The police arrived minutes later, summoned by an anonymous tip Evelyn had prepared in advance. Vance’s lab was shut down, his research confiscated. The victims would never get their memories back, but they’d have a chance to rebuild.
As for Evelyn, she knew her journey wasn’t over. Her memories might never fully return, but she was no longer defined by what she had lost. Instead, she was determined to uncover the truth, one piece at a time.
The Memory Thief had taken her past. But he couldn’t steal her future.
Stay tuned for Part II of this story.
Image Credit: Chat GPT
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