It's weird how memories can come back to you with only one look. 

"It's okay (Y/n)," Mackenzie Knox had one arm wrapped around you as she spoke, rocking you back and forth, "he didn't deserve you."

"It's n-not fucking okay, K-kenzie," you cried back, feeling your head go dizzy as memories from the night you found out about his dirty affair flooding your mind. 

And it's incredibly funny when the scars of your past can haunt you both physically and mentally.

"He did d-deserve me, that's what he told me. He t-told me that it was my fault, was I n-not good enough for him? D-d-did I do something wrong?" 

The pain from being in such a toxic relationship had broken you down slowly, and this was the final hit. The hit that sent you spiraling into madness as you sat on the couch of your best friends apartment, sobbing your heart out while she comforted you. 

"Of course you were good enough for him, and no. You didn't do anything wrong. He was the one who cheated, and that makes you the better person," Mackenzie reassured, but it didn't make you feel any better about yourself. Was it supposed to?

"I j-j-just don't get what I-I did wr-wrong!" 

Your stutter was getting worse nowadays. 

You weren't entirely sure how you got it- maybe you were born with it? The point is, you couldn't remember. In fact, most of your childhood was a blur nowadays. 

It was probably a bad thing, forgetting where you grew up, the people you were around (if any) and just... your whole life as a child was gone. A dark hole that whenever you tried to search into, it would send back echoes of anxiety and strange feelings of absolute terror. 

Those feelings felt so... familiar. 

"(Y/n)... I know it must be so difficult for you right now. But I'll always be here for you, alright? You know that, right?"

You looked up at your best friend for the first time this evening. You hadn't met her eyes the whole time you showed up at her front door, stumbling into her house and collapsing on her couch in tears, explaining how you had just found out about your husband of 14 year's affair with another woman. 

"Josh ch-cheated on me," you whispered. She gave you a sympathetic look. 

"I know, baby," she wrapped you in a hug again, and she held you while you cried. It felt good to be held by someone. 

Another hour or so passed. But time was a blur, a blur that you weren't entitled to try and keep up with. For the first time in your life you felt like you just wanted to fade out of existence, a little voice in your head telling you that you were worthless. 

You listened to that voice.

You knew you were crazy. You knew that normal people didn't hear fucking voices in their head when they were trying to sleep, or when they tried to think about the dark hole that was their childhood. 

The voice would get louder and angrier when she would look at her left palm. 

The long, unfamiliar scar trailed down her palm like a slit in paper. Whenever you tried to remember where you had gotten it, you would be overcome with emotion. 

Raw, hard, frightening emotion. Terror playing a big part, but sadness and guilt was mixed in there as well. And, oh god... the pain. 

The large pain that was the large scar of your old burn mark that ran down your abdomen, that you'd carried for as long as you could remember. It didn't hurt much anymore, but it was definitely there, but the problem was you couldn't fucking remember it's origins no matter how hard you tried. 

Before you knew it, Mackenzie rubbed your back before standing from her spot beside you, taking your cold, scarred hands into her warm brown ones. 

"Okay, listen. I'm going to go get some movies, some ice-cream, and we can sit here and be sad together, alright? Would you like that?" She asked, and you just nodded your head slightly before she quickly ran off towards her kitchen. 

You sat there in silence as you heard the distant noises of Mackenzie exploring her fridge. Your mind wandered, as you tried to stop the waves of tears rolling down your face. 

Joshua Beckett. The 'perfect' man you had met during college. You were both studying marine biology, but you both dropped out half way through. You, to pursue your dream of modelling, and him, for- now that you thought about it, you weren't entirely sure why he had.

And although you both stopped attending the same college, you both stayed friends until you were 26. Then he had asked you out, and he seemed perfect. 

But you were naive like that. 

When he proposed to you only 8 months into the relationship, you agreed, not seeing anything wrong. 

And sure, maybe the marriage had gone great, but then it went downhill. 

And memories of your past can still haunt you, but you learn to forget them.

You had suffered your first miscarriage at the age of 29. And, once the doctors told you you had an extremely low chance of getting pregnant, it had sent your relationship into chaos. 

You fell into a deep sadness. But, instead of helping you through the rough time, what was Josh doing? He was partying, hooking up with other woman, which you would soon come to find out. 

11 years. 11 fucking years, he had been having an affair with another woman, even starting a family with her.

It's like a dam. Those memories being held up by a wall you built against your own will.

The worst part was that she knew. She knew Josh had a wife but she didn't tell you about their two children. It disgusted you. 

Before you knew it, overwhelming anger was flooding your veins and you bundled up the fabric of your t-shirt in your fist. Swallowing harshly, you tried to block yourself from your thoughts and suddenly becoming very interested in Mackenzie's fireplace in front of you. 

Then, the upbeat tune of your mobile phone's ringtone flooded the small room. 

But sometimes...

Your first thought was to ignore the call. Ever since you had found out about his affair a few hours ago, Josh had been calling you non-stop, trying to beg for forgiveness. Fucking idiot. Why would you forgive him?

But, when you glanced over, the words 'Unknown' danced across the illuminated screen. 

All those memories need are a little kick to come crashing back down on top of you.

"H-hello?" you asked in a shaky voice as you held the phone up to your ear. You stood quickly, stumbling over to her sliding glass door, pushing the curtains aside and admiring the darkness that flooded the backyard.  

"Hi. Is this (Y/n) (L/n)?," a voice asked through the other end of the receiver. It was so familiar... but you couldn't place your finger on it. It was so fucking weird. You should be scared that this unknown person knew your name, but you weren't. It was fucked up in a way you couldn't explain. 

"Who is th-this?" You asked, using a shaking hand to run your fingers over the edge of the glass door. 

"Wow, you're stuttering more than Bill did."

You felt something snap inside of you at the mention of the name. You didn't know anyone by the name of Bill, but... oh god, you fucking did. You didn't know who, but there was definitely someone that was important to you. 

"(Y/n)? Are you okay?"

The more he spoke, the more your head spun. "Yes, yeah, j-just give me a m-m-minute."

"Do you remember who I am?"

The question stunned you, and you found yourself going through every memory you possibly could trying to remember how you vaguely found his voice familiar. You found nothing.

"No. Wh-who is th-this?" You practically begged through the receiver. You leaned against the glass rather harshly, the room spinning around you. 

"It's Mike."

You paused. 

"I-I don't know a M-Mike."

"Hanlon. Mike Hanlon."

The name still somehow, didn't click. When he realized you weren't going to answer, he continued.

"I'm sorry (Y/n). But... it's time to come home. Derry."

Suddenly, the long scar on your hand started throbbing with pain. It flooded through your hand and up your arm, and you shuddered, holding it to your chest as you inhaled shakily. 

You raise it back to the glass, rather harshly, and next thing you knew a loud crash echoed through the house. 

You had fallen through the glass door. 

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