The hardest part after the memories is not to think about what her gaze was like in them—how it turned everything inside out with its absolute love, mixed with wild passion. Maybe I still didn’t remember half of everything. Maybe Korda’s ritual returned not all the memories—but one thing I knew: no one had ever looked at me like that.
And then the knives sank into my flesh with even more force and rage.
Because I realized it was nothing more than her game. But it all lasted only a few hours, and each time she opened her eyes, black, thick, viscous hatred swallowed everything.
All it took was to see her violet gaze, and my roof went right off. Because in it I saw a single word—glittering aggressively like a neon advertisement.
Lie.