I stood in the corridor, the air thick and heavy with the metallic scent of blood. Three more girls burst out of the room behind the body, laughing brightly as they ran down the hall together.
One had sleek white hair that streamed behind her like moonlight. Two had black hair that bounced with every step. They passed straight through Riya's corpse on the floor without slowing, their bare feet and the hems of their old-fashioned dresses moving through the pooling blood as if it weren't there. Then they passed through me — a cold ripple of air and memory — their laughter echoing off the walls like bells from another time.
Eleanor. Sophia. Monica.
[These are her memories. The moments that shaped her life.]
