“Empty—I was in class moments ago, and now I was nowhere.”

  I turned slowly in the vacuum-like space, unsure if I was dead because I couldn’t feel anything: anger, joy, rage, or loneliness while floating—falling—standing; it was not unequal to the time I fell between the white spaces of my science textbook. The only thing accompanying me was different-colored shards like broken glass.

  The colors consisted of blue, yellow, pink, and red shards, with a huge lean on blue fragments shimmering in the infinite darkness of the void.

  “I was about to stand up to Ryo, but now I’m—where am I?”

  I reflected on the moments when Ryo touched Christine, unsure of what became of her. Did Ryo take my absence as submission? Regardless, I needed to know.

  “Okay, genie, I’ve calmed down, so take me back,” I said into the emptiness—my words endlessly echoing. But no one responded.

  Calling for it was pointless. When the genie didn’t want to speak, I could do nothing to convince it.

  ***

  One of the pink shards drifted too close to my face, so I pushed it away. Upon touching it, a warm, loving sensation filled my body and images of Sakura holding me, lying next to me, embracing me filled my mind; I felt love—I felt—

  ***

  I jerked my hand away from the shard. My body, a blazing inferno of passion—desire—and loneliness.

  “For the love of—why, Sakura!”

  I thought she was the one with a complex.

  Okay, calm down.

  I took notice of other nearby shards, uncertain of the landmine I woke up in.

  Shortly after I touched the pink fragment, the feeling subsided, leaving me empty of all emotions. I guess these are fragments of Antwon’s memories, and touching them allows brief visions of his past. Each color must represent…an emotion… an action or something.

  I drummed up the nerve—not the courage—to touch another fragment. Slowly, I reached for a tiny blue fragment, much smaller than the pink shard. My hand slowly crept toward the shard—arm fully extended, but I was unable to reach it. A sigh of relief.

  “Oh, well,” I said, talking to no one, but feeling content to hear my voice.

  I held my arms out and palms up; the typical I tried gesture.

  “I guess I’ll never know, unless it magically flies into my hand.”

  The shard launched itself at me, as if beckoning to my call. I did all I could to catch it, but its momentum pushed me backwards,

  ***

  Drifting—seeing—hearing.

  I heard a loud crash like shattering glass, and then two voices screaming, but I couldn’t see anything, just darkness. Through slivers of light peering through closed fingers, I saw—Antwon’s mom—an open hand—his dad lying on the ground, weeping along with Antwon.

  “Can’t you do anything right?” she screamed.

  “I’m sorry,” he wept uncontrollably as if suffocating. “I—I’ll d—do better—”

  “How long do you expect me to wait for you to get your shit together!”

  Our dad crawled to our mom and grabbed her dress, begging on both knees for her to stay.

  A pit formed in my stomach as familiar words rang out—my words—but I never—

  A devastating wack—her flesh departing from our father’s face—brought my attention back. Our hearts sank as we—one voice—let out a visceral scream.

  My eyes closed, refusing to drink in my father’s pain.

  ***

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  When I opened them, I was back in the void, and the shard was drifting away like the warmth in my heart. I reached out—for the shard—for my father, but it was too far, and I couldn’t stop it.

  I touched my face only to discover tears. I shouldn’t be crying because it didn’t happen to me, right? These are his memories, not mine. So, why do I feel so damn hurt?

  The pit festered, digging in, taking everything, “Damnit, genie! This isn’t what I wished for: this isn’t what a second chance is supposed to be!”

  As with before, my emotional turmoil subsided, but my tears remained. “Blue must be Antwon’s sorrow; that sucks because the damn things are everywhere.”

  A yellow glow emanated from behind me; it was massive because the glow surrounded me. I turned my head slightly, hoping not to activate it. The impact of that tiny shard must have sent me flying into this one; this shard felt warm and inviting.

  Can I really do this again? I sighed, breathing in what I assumed was air.

  I closed my eyes to the prospect of living with another abusive memory without justification.

  I’d done unspeakable things in my past life, but I had a code: no women or children.

  I looked out into the void filled with painful fragments and placed my palms against the shard, bracing myself for the unknown.

  ***

  “Sakura!” a voice, my voice, but younger, called.

  “Sakura, wake up.”

  Not again!

  The scene came into view. I was pushing the sleeping perv, trying to wake her up. This couldn’t have been long ago, maybe four or five years ago.

  “Big sis, wake up.”

  “Why? What time is it?” Sakura said, rubbing her eyes.

  “Mom and Dad said you need to wake up and take me to school.”

  “Or,” she reached out and grabbed me, dragging me into the bed with her. “You can go back to sleep with me.”

  I braced myself for forbidden emotions, but they never came. Instead, I felt warm as joy mended my soul from an embrace from a Sakura I’ve never known.

  “I thought I’d find you two slacking off,” a woman who much resembled Sakura said. “Alright, I’ll give you three minutes to cuddle, and then you both need to get downstairs for breakfast.”

  The flow of tears didn’t stop, but took on new meaning; an unfamiliar feeling that resonated throughout my body. What is this?

  “Okay, little Antwon—”

  “I’m big!” I said, standing on my toes, pushing my chest out.

  “Okay, big Antwon, I’ll meet you downstairs in a moment.”

  “No, I’ll wait for you.”

  Sakura smiled and grabbed some clothing from a nearby drawer. “I’m going to change, okay?” We nodded. Sakura pulled her large blue shirt above her head. The sight of her toned body and developed muscles reminded me of a less beefy version of myself. Were all women like this?

  She slid her shorts off, and for a moment, I think we stopped breathing; I wasn’t intrigued by the thought of her without clothing, I was in awe of her might

  “Antwon,” my dad's voice called.

  “ I-I’m coming, Dad,” I said, saved by my old man.

  We ran downstairs—down familiar hallways—to a blissful scene of what a family should look like: Dad was cooking up breakfast: Gohan, an omelet, and Misoshiru. The warmth intensified.

  “Dang, Antwon, save some for the rest of us,” Sakura said, finally arriving and taking a seat at the small table.

  Antwon pushed his plate toward her, “You can have mine, big sis.”

  I never want to leave this place. I want to stay here. I finally feel like I’m starting off on the right foot, a second chance.

  ***

  The memory ended abruptly. Why! I turned to see the large yellow shard floating away, “Come back! I wasn’t finished,” but the shard, like the last one, drifted away. Why—why—why? Listen to me!

  The feelings started to fade, but I refused. I held on to my anger, letting it fester like an open wound because it was better than feeling nothing.

  The more I thought about Antwon’s tangled emotions and the sheer number of blue shards, the more I wanted to scream into the abyss, unleashing my anger. People like me deserve to live terrible lives, but this kid was dealt a crappy hand, and for what?

  I swallowed bitterness and prepared to send it flying back out, but a glowing red sheet-like shard drifted into my sight and hung there, taunting me. “What the heck do you want?” I said, examining the object. “I’m done with this. I don’t want to touch you, so beat it.”

  I clenched my fist and gritted my teeth, seeing only my reflection in the shard. My eyes were hollowed out, empty like Antwon’s puppeted corpse.

  “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “Genie, let me out of here, right now!”

  All the shame I felt this morning, the love I felt for Christine, my rage toward Ryo; was it all a dream—was Knox a dream?

  I swung, aiming for the reflection of my jaw, trying to knock sense into myself, but the shard moved back.

  I pursued the shard, swinging wildly, yet purposefully. The shard avoided me again, and I grew furious.

  The shard pulsed violently, stunning me and shooting sharp pain throughout my head. Its bright light dulled a bit, releasing me from its harm. But the light started to regain its luster.

  I reached for the shard with both hands, hoping to grab it and shatter it against my head. It gravitated towards me, wanting to be touched, but before I could stop myself, it was already in my hands; a victim of my own rage.