Fisilti - Becca Fitzpatrick -

"I'm the one who will spend eternity reminding you," he whispered.

His jaw tightened. He pulled a folded paper from his jacket—a page torn from a book, the edges charred. On it, in handwriting I didn't recognize as my own, were the words: If I forget you, find me in the storm.

The rain fell in soft, relentless whispers over Coldwater, each drop a needle stitching me back into a life I couldn't remember. They said I fell. They said I was lost for eleven weeks. But when I opened my eyes in that hospital bed, the only thing missing was him. Fisilti - Becca Fitzpatrick

The world tilted. The rain stopped mid-air. And for the first time since I woke up empty, I remembered what falling felt like.

"You wrote this," he said. "Before they took your memory. Before they tried to unmake us." "I'm the one who will spend eternity reminding

I stopped. The air turned electric. Every cell in my body screamed run , but my feet betrayed me, stepping closer.

"Do I know you?" I asked, my voice a stranger's. On it, in handwriting I didn't recognize as

Patch.