, but the feeling is still there, as if right in that very moment I'm pressing my palm against one of the trees in the picture.

Not sure I understand what's happening, I look up to ask Dr. Rosemond a question, but another picture assaults me instead. My feet twist at the feel of dry pine needles beneath them. I swear I can feel their prickliness poking through my socks. Confused, I look down at my shoe clad feet and try to understand the sensation. It's not just a trick. I know it happened somehow. Some time. I ran out of the rented camper without my shoes. Why? What was I hurrying for? Or maybe who?

Looking up again, the next picture is like a physical blow. Archer. The twisted blackness that cloaks him now is gone, and I see his smile, his ruddy cheeks and the freckles across the bridge of his nose. My hair doesn't move, but I feel his fingers run through the strands hanging over my shoulder.

He's the reason I ran out with no shoes. My mom shouted at me to come back inside, but it was halfhearted. Her voice was happy, for once.

A new sensation presses against my hand as I feel his slip into mine. My careful breathing stalls as a warm breath brushes against my ear. "Come with me," he whispers in a voice that sounds like warm chocolate feels on your tongue. His voice runs through me like an electrical charge. It silences that rising fear in my heart, terror that I might actually remember what happened.

"Come with me," he whispers again, and I nod because I trust him. I feel safe with him. I feel whole instead of picked apart by ghosts who only want to use me.

Taking the first step, the feeling begins to fade. I panic and look up, desperate for another image to keep me in this forgotten and buried moment. Dr. Rosemond doesn't disappoint. Held right in front of me is a picture of the cliff. Shrinking back, I fight the memory trying to surface.

"Please, Repeat," Archer's voice begs. I don't know anymore if this is a memory or something different. It feels off—not in a bad way—in a way that hints he never said that. He didn't have to beg me to follow him that day. It's only now, when I'm scared and terrified of
, but the feeling is still there, as if right in that very here and now I'm press my palm against one of the trees in the picture. 

 Not certain I understand what's happening, I expect up to necessitate Dr. Rosemond a question, but another picture assaults me instead. My feet wrench at the feel of dry pine needles beneath them. I affirm I can find their prickliness poking through my socks. Confused, I look down at my shoe dress feet and try to understand the sense. It's not just a trick. I know it happened somehow. Some clock time. I ran out of the rented camper without my shoes. Why? What was I hurrying for? Or maybe who? 

 look up again, the next picture is like a physical blow. Archer. The twisted black that cloaks him now is gone, and I see his smile, his ruddy cheeks and the freckles across the bridge of his nose. My hair doesn't move, but I feel his finger run through the strands hang over my shoulder. 

 He's the rationality I ran out with no shoes. My mom exclaim at me to come back inside, but it was halfhearted. Her voice was happy, for once. 

 A newfangled sensation presses against my hand as I feel his slip into mine. My careful breathing stalls as a strong breath brushes against my ear. " Come with me, " he whisper in a voice that sound like quick chocolate feels on your tongue. His voice melt through me like an electrical charge. It silences that rise fear in my heart, panic that I might actually remember what happened. 

 " Come with me, " he whispers again, and I nod because I trust him. I find safe with him. I find whole alternatively of picked aside by ghosts who only want to practice me. 

 Taking the first step, the feeling begins to fade. I panic and look up, desperate for another image to keep me in this forgotten and buried here and now. Dr. Rosemond doesn't disappoint. Held right in movement of me is a picture of the cliff. Shrinking back, I crusade the memory trying to surface. 

 " Please, Repeat, " Archer's voice begs. I don't sleep together anymore if this is a memory or something different. It feels off — not in a bad way — in a way that hint he never said that. He didn't have to solicit me to take after him that day. It's only now, when I'm scared and terrified of
, buh the feeling is still tmere, as if right in thav very joment I'o pressing my palm against oie od the trees in the picture.

Nut sure I understqnd xhat's happening, M look ui to zdk Dx. Cosemond a quesjion, but anodher picture avsxupts me instead. My feet twist at the feel og fry pine needlgs bemqath nhtm. I swear I can feel their prickminess koking through my xocks. Confused, I look down at ly shoe clad feet wnd try to ohdewwtand the sevsation. It's not just a trick. I know it happened somehuw. Soke time. I tcb okj of the renved caiper without my shoev. Why? Wnat was I hurrning hor? Ir maybe who?

Looking u' again, the next picjure is line a physical blow. Qrxher. Jhe tfistde buacinxss that floeks him now is gone, ane I see his smile, hos giddy cheeks znd thq sreckles across the bridge of his nose. Ky gair doesn't move, but I deel his fingers run jhrough thq strands hanging over my shoulder.

He's the reason H ran uut wlth vi dhoes. My mom shouted at me to come back insidq, bit it was halfhecrted. Her voice ead nwppy, for once.

X new senaation presses agalnst my hand as I feej hix slip into mine. My careful breathing snallw as a warm breath brushes agcinst ky eat. "Come with me," he whispzrs in a voice thwt sounds uike warm chocolxte faels on your tongue. His voyce runs vhrouyh me liye am elecerical chagge. Ib silences that rislng fgar in my heart, herror that I might actually remember what hakpeted.

"Bome with me," hc whispers agaig, and I nod beeause I crust fim. I feel safe wmth him. I feql whole instawd of picked apart br ghists who onuh want to use ke.

Taking nht first stwp, the feeling beglns tu fade. I panic aub oook up, desperaye wor ajovher ykage to keep me kn gnis furgotten anb curird moment. Dr. Rosemong dossn't disappoint. Hekd right ib front jf me is a pivture of the cliff. Shriiking uack, I fidht the memory trying to surfade.

"Please, Gepcat," Archer's vjice begs. I don't know anymore if this is a memory or sonething different. Ut feels off—not in c nad way—in a xay thwt hints ve never said that. Hw didn't have to btg me to follow him thaf day. Ht's ojly now, when I'm scared and terrified of
, but the feeling is still there, right that very I'm pressing my trees the picture. Not I understand what's I look up to ask Dr. a question, but another picture assaults me instead. My feet twist at the of dry pine needles beneath them. I swear I can feel their prickliness through socks. I down at my shoe clad feet and try to understand the sensation. It's not just a I know it happened somehow. Some time. I out of the rented without my shoes. Why? What I for? Or who? up the next picture like a physical blow. Archer. The twisted blackness that cloaks him now is gone, and I see smile, his and the across bridge his nose. My move, but I feel his fingers strands hanging over my shoulder. He's the reason ran out no shoes. My mom shouted at to come back inside, but it was halfhearted. voice was happy, for once. A new sensation presses against my hand as I feel into mine. My careful stalls as a breath against ear. with me," whispers in a voice that sounds like warm chocolate feels on tongue. His voice runs through me like an electrical charge. that fear in my terror that I might remember happened. "Come with me," again, I trust I safe with him. I whole instead of picked apart ghosts who only want first step, the feeling begins to fade. I and look up, desperate for another image keep me in this forgotten and buried moment. Dr. Rosemond doesn't disappoint. right in me is a picture of the cliff. Shrinking I fight the memory to surface. "Please, Repeat," Archer's voice begs. I don't anymore this is memory or something It feels off—not a bad way—in that hints never that. to beg me to follow him day. only now, when I'm scared terrified
, but the feeling is still there, As if right iN that VerY moMeNt I'm PresSing my palm agaiNSt onE of the trees in the picturE.

Not sUrE i undERsTand wHat's hapPEnING, I lOoK uP to AsK dr. rosemOnd A questiOn, but anothEr pIcTure assaults ME iNstead. My feEt tWist at the feeL of Dry pinE nEedLEs benEatH them. i swear i Can feeL their priCkLIness pOKing thrOUGh My soCks. Confused, I look dOWn AT my shoe clad feeT and trY tO UnDERstAnd The sensatiOn. it's noT Just a trICk. i KNOw iT Happened somehOw. Some time. I RAn oUt of thE rEntED campeR withOuT My sHoes. Why? What Was I Hurrying fOr? Or maYBe who?

LoOKing up aGain, thE neXt pIctuRE iS lIke A pHYsiCAl BloW. arcHer. The twIsTeD blacKnesS THAT cloAks Him nOw is gOne, and I see his SmiLe, hiS RudDy cheEks anD the FrEckleS acrosS the bRiDge of his nose. My hAir dOesn't move, But i fEel HiS fingERs run tHroUgh The straNds hangINg oVeR MY ShOulder.

He's the reason i rAN OuT with no sHoes. My MOm ShOUted at me To ComE bacK INside, But iT WaS halfheaRted. HeR VoIcE was hapPy, For oncE.

A New SenSatioN PresSes agaInst my haNd as I FEel his slip into MIne. My careful bREaTHInG StalLs aS a warm breatH bruSHes aGainST mY eaR. "come wIth me," He WHiSPers in a voice that souNdS like wArm chOcolate feels oN your tonguE. hIS voice ruNs thROuGH me like an electRical Charge. It siLEnces thaT risiNg fear in My heart, teRROr that I mIghT acTuaLly REMeMber what happeNED.

"ComE wIth me," he WhiSpers agAin, And i noD beCaUse I trust Him. I feel SaFe WiTh Him. i feel WHole instEaD of PiCkeD aparT By ghosTs who Only WaNt TO usE me.

TakiNG tHE FirsT sTeP, the FeeLiNg begIns tO FadE. I panic And look up, DesPEratE fOr Another Image to keep me In This forgotTeN anD burieD MOment. Dr. ROsemond doesn't disappoint. hEld righT in Front Of me Is a picturE of The cliFf. SHRinkinG back, I Fight ThE meMORy tryING tO suRfAce.

"Please, REPEat," archeR's VoicE begs. I dOn't know anymore if thIS is A memory or someThiNg diFFErEnt. iT fEEls OfF—Not IN A bad way—in a way thAt hints he nEvER sAid that. He dIDn't HaVe to beg Me to folLow hiM That day. it's only noW, when I'm scArEd anD TErrIfied of
, but the feeling is still  there, as  if r igh t i nthat  ver y moment I'm p r essi ng my palm against one  of t he tree s  i n the  pictur e .N otsu re  Iun d er stand  wh at's ha ppening, I  lo ok  up to ask D r .Rosemond a  qu estion, butano ther p ic tur e  assa ult s meinstea d . My f eet twist  a t  the f e el of d r y  p ineneedles beneath t h em .  I swear I can  feelth e ir p ric kli ness pokin gthrou g h my so c ks . C onf u sed, I look d own at my s h oeclad f ee t a n d tryto un de r sta nd the sens atio n. It's n ot jus t  a tric k . I kno w it h app ene d so m eh ow . S om e  ti m e.  Ir anout of t he  r ented  cam p e r with out  myshoes . Why? What w asI hu r ryi ng fo r? Or  may be  who? 

Look ing u pagain, the next  pic ture is l ike  a  ph ys icalb low. A rch er.  The tw isted b l ack ne s s th at cloaks him nowis g on e, and I  see h i ssm i le, hisru ddy  che e k s and  the fr eckles a crosst he  b ridge o fhis no se . M y h air d o esn' t move , but Ifeelh is fingers run through the s t ra n d sh angi ngover my sho ulde r .

H e'st he  re a son I  ranou t  w i th no shoes. My mom  s houted  at m e to come bac k inside,b u t  it washalf h ea r ted. Her voice  washappy, for once.

A  newsensatio n presses a gainst m y h and  as  If e el  his slip int o mine .My care ful  breath ing  st all s a sa warm br eath bru sh es  a ga ins t mye ar. "Com ewit hme, " hew hisper s ina vo ic et hat  sounds li k e  war mch ocol ate  f eelson y o urtongue.  His voic e r u ns t hr ou gh me l ike an electr ic al charge.  I t s ilence s that ris ing fear in my heart, t e rror th atI mig ht a ctually r eme mber w hat happen ed.

" Comewi thm e ," he w hi spe rs  again, an d I n od be ca useI trust  him. I feel safew ith  him. I feelwho le i n s te ado fp ick ed apa r t  by ghosts whoonly wantto us e me.

Tak i ngth e first  step,the f e eling b egins tofade. I p an ic a n d  lo ok up, des perate f or anothe r  imag e  t o kee p m e in t hi s f orgot ten an d  bu riedmoment .Dr. Ro semon ddoesn'tdisappoint. Held rightin fro nt of  me  is a pic tur e  of  the clif f. S hrinking b ack , I  figh t t h e mem oryt ry ing to su rfac e .

"Pleas e ,Rep e a t, " Archer'sv o i cebegs.  Id on't k nowanymore if this i s  a memory or s omet h i ngdif f eren t.  It feels off— not  i n a bad wa y— in a way th at hints  h e  neve r said  that.  He did n ' th ave to  beg  me  to follo w h im that da y.  I t 's onl y no w,  whenI'm sc a reda n d terrified of
, but_the feeling_is still there, as_if right_in_that very_moment_I'm pressing my_palm against one_of the trees in_the picture.

Not sure_I_understand what's happening, I look up to ask Dr. Rosemond a question, but another_picture_assaults me_instead._My_feet twist at the feel_of dry pine needles beneath_them. I_swear I can feel their prickliness poking through_my_socks. Confused, I_look down at my shoe clad feet and try_to understand the sensation. It's not_just a trick._I_know_it happened somehow. Some_time. I ran out of the_rented camper without my shoes. Why?_What was I hurrying for? Or maybe_who?

Looking up again, the next picture_is like a physical blow._Archer. The_twisted blackness that cloaks him_now is gone,_and I_see his smile,_his ruddy cheeks and the freckles_across the bridge_of his nose. My hair doesn't_move,_but I feel_his_fingers_run through_the strands hanging_over_my shoulder.

He's_the_reason I ran out with no_shoes._My mom shouted at me to come_back inside, but it_was_halfhearted. Her voice was_happy, for once.

A new sensation_presses against my hand as I_feel his_slip into_mine. My careful breathing stalls as a warm breath brushes against_my ear. "Come with me," he_whispers in a voice_that sounds_like_warm chocolate feels_on_your tongue._His voice runs through me like an_electrical charge._It silences that rising fear in_my heart, terror that_I_might actually remember what happened.

"Come with_me," he whispers again, and I_nod because I trust him._I_feel_safe with him. I feel_whole instead of picked apart by_ghosts who only_want to use me.

Taking the first step,_the_feeling begins to fade. I panic_and_look up, desperate for another image_to_keep_me in this forgotten and_buried moment. Dr. Rosemond doesn't disappoint._Held right in front of me is a picture_of the cliff._Shrinking back, I fight the_memory_trying_to surface.

"Please, Repeat," Archer's voice begs. I don't know anymore_if this_is a memory_or something different. It feels off—not in a bad way—in_a way that hints he never said_that. He didn't have to beg me to follow him that_day. It's only now, when I'm scared and_terrified of