Flashback Scene – Lucien Memory
"When She Was Still Human"
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She was standing in the middle of the road like she had forgotten how to move.
Rain poured in sheets, bouncing off rooftops, flooding the gutters, soaking her thin school uniform until it clung like regret. People shouted from doorways.
> "Get out of the street!"
"Girl, you'll catch your death!"
But she didn't flinch.
Didn't blink.
Didn't even shiver.
She just stared into the muddy water pooling around her ankles, her eyes locked downward — not lost, but searching.
I was fifteen.
Umbrella in hand, coming back from the store.
The way she stood there — small, dripping, unmoving — it didn't feel right.
So I walked up to her.
Her shoes were gone. Just one sandal floating down the gutter like it had somewhere more important to be. The other was buried halfway in the mud behind her heel, like the earth was trying to eat her whole.
Her toes were pale. Her fingers clenched. Her lips, blue.
> "Hey," I said, holding the umbrella over her.
"You can't stay here."
No response. Her eyes stayed down, still watching the water like maybe her whole life had been swept away with that slipper.
> "Are you okay?" I asked again, crouching now, soaking my own jeans.
Still nothing.
I touched her wrist.
She jerked — hard, like I'd slapped her — and pulled her arm back, breathing sharp and startled.
That's when she finally looked at me.
Just for a second.
Just enough.
Her eyes were strange. Not broken — not yet — just… tired.
Like someone who had already learned what waiting too long could cost.
I smiled. That stupid, clueless kind of smile boys do when they don't know what else to offer.
> "You'll catch a fever," I said. "And you'll get yelled at worse for that."
Still no words. Just the faintest nod.
> "Let's get out of the water," I said, reaching out again, this time slower.
"You don't have to say anything. Just walk with me."
And she did.
Quietly.
Carefully.
Like someone who wasn't used to being invited.