Infection. My newest book series.

Warning: there is mention of trauma.

Book One: Identify

By: Parker, Amy Grace

 Who’s to say that we don't know anything. See that’s where they are wrong. They haven’t experienced the same things as us. On the brim of falling apart, everyone close to us looked up at the sky, where as we looked down. No, not close to ourself. How could we be? Understanding ourself, yes. Being close and trusting, no. There is no we can trust ourself after the incident. We needed a way to cope. A coping mechanize that apparently didn’t exist. Why would it... 

Amy looked over the previously written paragraph. Pessimistic much? Very. 

I looked her up and down the looked at the paragraph. I didn’t want to make assumptions, but my mind was way ahead of me. Endless scenarios and escalating spiral developed. “Why.” Not a question, rather a statement. 

Amy looked at me. There were no innocence in those eyes. She knew. I had locked the doors at the beginning, but she knew that. Her eye contact was the reason I was holding my pocket watch tightly. She was likely going to jump for it. 

Amy tilted her head a few degrees to her left as a big grin appeared across her face. “Nervous are we?” 

I jolted awake in bed. “No!” I yelled. Then I broke down crying.

One of the caretakers opened the door gently, came and sat by my sobbing younger self. She cared. Amanda was the only one who cared. She would fight for any of our lives, but she truly cared about as if we were her own kids. “The nightmares won’t stop,” I cried. She hugged me. 

“They will once she is gone.”

“Will they though? I can’t do this!” I started to pace the room. 

I still understood the feeling my younger self expressed. The trauma and the pain here there. Even though Amy never existed, even though none of the experiments actually happened, even though the pain of the memories that were burned into my mind never actually took place, I still felt the weight. I felt the heaviness of everything that 11 year old went through. 

In the beginning, when I took my first breath, the world was evil. The world had gotten better in those 14 years and one month. I would say that it only got worse. Children were suffering from things that never happened and the world was on the verge of WW3. The Mandela Effect is what I was told had happened. According to Google “The Mandela Effect is a type of false memory that occurs when many different people incorrectly remember the same thing. It refers to a widespread false memory that Nelson Mandela died in prison in the 1980s. Memories are not always precise recordings of events.” Imagine that. 30 kids ranging from ages 11-17 remembering a girl named Amy. 

Who she was specifically wasn’t important. She was represented with 3 things consistently through out all the memories. She had a circular glasses frame, an obsession with crows and their representation, and an irreplaceable vibe. She seemed trustworthy in a sense that others could go to her and she would listen and likely relate to them. She was different around me though. 

There were 4 alternate memories that the children had experienced with her, or technically 5 alternate memories. I was the only one with the 5th memory. 

(: Author’s quick note: everything here is fictional. None of this happened or anything like that. (Yes, this chapter was really short.) Thank you for reading! I hope to have chapter 2 out soon. (: Have a great day!