“The hardest thing after the memories return is forcing yourself not to think about how she looked at me—about how he turned me inside out with his unconditional love, mixed with wild passion. Maybe I really remembered far from everything, maybe Kurda’s ritual only gave me a part of my past, but one thing I knew for certain—no one had ever looked at me that way. And because of that, the knives went in even deeper and more fiercely: because along with that realization came another—that for her all of this was just a game. For several hours it went on, and every time she opened her eyes, I was hit by a dense, sticky, black hatred. The moment I met her lilac eyes—everything in me snapped. Because in them one word burned, aggressively flickering like a neon sign: a lie. With black flashes and poisonous red streaks of rage, she tore into my body, greedily striving to cause pain.”