Kapitel 37: Chapter 37
"Your father is a much more vicious man than he lets on," Morpheus said, twisting his hands together in front of him. "You know those memories you lost so long ago? Those memories you wish that you could recall, but never can?" He paused, and his eyes narrowed. "Your father took them from you."
"What?" Lysandra exploded. "You're lying! My father would never do that!"
"How can you be so sure?" Morpheus asked. "You have no memories of your father - except the one in which he shot Corinna."
Lysandra felt her breath catch. He was right.
I wasn't aiming for her, Simon had said.
"And you remember the moment that happened a split second after he took your memories, don't you?" Morpheus continued.
She did. Her father, agony etched on his face, blood on his mouth, hands outstretched. A man with dark hair and bright, unnatural eyes, dragging him away from where she stood, confused, scared.
"I was the one who pulled him back from you," Morpheus explained. "But alas, I was too late. Simon had already gotten there. He had already taken all of your memories."
"Why would he do that?" Lysandra gasped.
"Remember what he told you? Some people are just naturally addicted to memories. They are exposed to them so often, they crave them so often that they just can't help but steal." Morpheus smiled.
"And you think my father was one of those people."
"I know Simon was one of those people," Morpheus told her, his expression hardening. "I worked with him. I watched him. And I walked into the room when he stole yours."
"Then why did he call you a Memory Thief?" Lysandra asked.
"Whom do you think he wants you to believe, me or him?" Morpheus replied, spreading his hands.
Lysandra considered this for a moment. "And why did he shoot my mother?" she finally asked, her voice tapering off to a mere whisper.
"I told him she was the condition," Morpheus replied. "He was supposed to give your memories back to you, and I would give her back to him. But he said to hell with those conditions. He shot her."
"That doesn't make sense."
"He was mad," Morpheus explained. "Of course it doesn't make sense. He didn't know what he was saying. He just wanted those memories. He may be mad even now, even when you speak to him every day. It's likely. It happens to a certain percentage of Memory Recoders."
Lysandra fell silent. She thought of all those times her father had stared at the floor instead of her, the way his voice had sounded so strangely calm. Had he stolen her memories? Were they all he could see when he looked past the bars into her eyes? She didn't want to believe that.
"And he's been lying to you from the beginning," Morpheus continued, "when he's told you there are right and wrong ways to go about revealing lost memories to their owners. The owners will never remember anything unless the Thieves actually give their memories back to them."
"You're saying that my father could transfer my memories back to me," Lysandra said. "He could give them back to me instead of telling me what they were."
"Exactly," Morpheus said, grinning. "If Theft was the same as Erasure, you see, they wouldn't call it Theft. They'd just call it Erasure."
Lysandra swallowed hard. As much as she hated to admit it, Morpheus was right - she'd believed her father was a relatively honest person up until now, but she didn't have a clear picture of him in her head from when she was young. She hardly remembered him at all.
"Okay," she said. "So how do I get him to give me my memories back?"
"A tricky question indeed," Morpheus said. "He is in prison, and I doubt he would comply even if you asked him to. Of course he'll feel possessive of the memories he's taken from you - he'll consider them his own now, so it will be difficult to coerce him into giving them up."
Lysandra felt her hands trembling. "Do you have a way or not?" she asked.
"Not at the moment," he answered. "But I'll work on it. You can be sure of that much. In the meantime - " And he stepped forward, one hand reaching out for her. She flinched back from his touch but ran into the metal pole behind her again.
His fingertip brushed against her temple.
Geschenke
-- Geschenk
erhalten Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein