Page 4 of Fractured Memories

Parker, on the other hand, has been a bit more helpful. I realized instantly that he was the other voice I heard that first night, but when we officially met, he was not what I expected. He’s older, probably close to his fifties, with silver at the temples of his dark hair and fewer scars than most everyone else.

He’s been more than happy to show me around—not for the first time, he’s said—once they realized I had lost my memory. As it turns out, a doctor knows the exact questions to ask to piece together that symptom I was withholding.

Despite looking relatively unapproachable with his icy eyes and large frame, Parker has been rather talkative. Not necessarily friendly—though next to Damian, he seems like it—but he’s very impassioned, which explains why he leads the rebel camp that I am apparently a part of. And he seems to love reminding anyone who will listen of the villains in the sky.

The Elites.

The only ones allowed to live up in the mountains, away from the air down here on ground level that has been poisoning and killing people for decades, lives the governing people of our great city. Parker hates them, saying that they feed off of violence and enjoy all of our suffering.

Supposedly, the air we breathe is a result of so many years of neglect. That the plants now are trying to kill us like we have done to them. And as a result, we’ve only neglected each other.

Or that’s Parker’s theory.

“Eden?”

I turn at the sound of my name, my hand going for a weapon on my thigh that isn’t there. I keep doing things like that, muscle memory acting in ways that make little sense.

Soft green-hazel eyes study me as Raya approaches, pushing her thick, brown hair over her shoulder. She settles onto the grass beside me, tipping her head up to look at the mountains, too.

I like Raya. She’s quiet and seems much more grounded than others in this camp. She’s the only one I trust not to ask questions or push, mostly because she seems resigned to whatever this life has given her.

It’s sad, but it benefits me for now.

“I thought I’d find you back here.”

I hum in response, going back to studying the mountains. Faintly, I think I can make out the bridges that connect the large mountain homes up there. From what I was told, the Elites have clean air to breathe and so many resources none of us will ever see.

I don’t know why, but it hurts to stare up there.

“Is it nice?” Raya asks softly.

I turn my head toward her, my eyes skimming over her scarred skin on display from her outfit. I was given the standard uniform of a tight tanktop and pants that allow for easy movement, but it leaves far too much skin at risk of being burned. The small, circular scars dot the skin of everyone in the camp—myself included—reminding us of how poisonous the air really is.

“Not being able to remember,” she clarifies. She sighs almost wistfully as she keeps staring up at the sky. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished for that.”

I’ve pieced together that Raya and her sister, Leah, have seen some truly horrific things. Most people have here. Just like everyone seems to have lost someone. Parker’s wife. Damian’s brother. Everyone has a reason to be angry and vengeful.

Sometimes I wonder what I’ve managed to outrun in what I lost.

Instead of answering that, I look up at the mountains that I can’t seem to stop staring at. “Are they really so bad?” It’s something that’s been nagging at me after Parker gave me his history rant. Something about it just didn’t sit right with me.

“The Elites?” I nod without looking at her. “They are worse than you’d ever believe.”

That’s what I keep hearing from everyone. The guards abuse their power. The government hoards resources. And the rest of us suffer while they ignore us, sitting up there like gods in the sky.

For some reason, though, I can’t reconcile that image despite everything I see.

“Our parents used to tell us about what it was like before.” Raya plucks strands of grass to tangle between her fingers. “That the government used to make the city better for its people, and they actively worked against the mafia.” She shakes her head. “And now they are up there together.”

That was one of the first things Parker told me. The Elites are made up of those who govern—or decide everything for us so that it benefits them—and the mafia. Two groups that should never be trusted.

“That’s why we’re trying to take them down?” I don’t feel any camaraderie here, but I’m still trying to collect all the pieces to the puzzle. Which means I have to keep asking questions, only to be given answers that make no sense.

“That’s why Parker keeps trying to attack the mafia.” Raya’s hands weave the grass together as she softly speaks. “We all know that the government is really just doing their bidding. They say that they are trying to make this situation better for us, that we are all suffering, but really, they are just trying to stay on the mafia’s good side, too.”

“So the mafia are the ones with power.” That statement feels true.

“They are supposed to provide medicine and protection.” She shrugs one shoulder, sounding completely resigned. “Instead, they send guards around to keep everyone in line, supply drugs to people who can afford them to keep them in their place, and use us all like game pieces.”