Memories of my past life were always hazy, like a fogged-up bathroom mirror.
A mirror I never tried to wipe clean.
The novel was the only thing I could recall from my first life. Perhaps because it was the only thing untouched by pain. Unlike the rest of my memories, which were either traumatizing or excruciatingly unbearable.
I should have left it that way.
Because now, as I lived this life, it felt unpleasant to relive the past, even if it were only as a dream.
"Samantha."
Yes. That was my name.
I was a disappointment. My existence was a burden to everyone.
Even if I wasn't good at memorizing quotes for literature class, I was certain those were my parents' exact words the day I lost my first tooth. Also on my eighth birthday. Or did they say it on my twelfth birthday?
Perhaps both.
No, that wasn't right.
My father had only said I was a burden to 'them,' not to 'everyone.'
I scowled at myself.
'I'm so stupid for not remembering Father's exact words.'
