No one expected that even when I nearly died many times, I still never gave in. Now, memory extraction was my only hope.
Vincent shaved my head, then, without any anesthesia, forced a five-centimeter metal connector into my skull. I shook in pain and foamed at the mouth, but he ignored it and even refused the doctor’s offer of a sedative.
“This animal won’t die so easily! I want him to watch the killer he’s protecting get exposed in the most painful way!”
At his command, the memory extraction started. The first scene appeared: a university library, coming into focus.
I sat by the window reading. When I looked up, Tasha was tiptoeing to place a copy of The Little Prince beside me.
In my memory, I touched her hair. She leaned on my shoulder and said softly, “After you graduate, let’s rent a small place. I’ll cook, you wash the dishes and on weekends we’ll go to the morning market together, okay?”
The scene then shifted to a small rented room, its narrow kitchen filled with the smell of scallions.
“Wash your hands! I got paid today and bought your favorite braised pork knuckle!” I said as I hugged her from behind.