WinterWitch: Control

Chapter 11

James POV

We sat on the sofa as she spoke about my memories. "Wait, so I have two options?"

"Yes, you can either choose to sit here and think of the memories like we have in the past or we can go out that door..." she said, gesturing to the front door. "And physically see the memories as those glass boxes that I talk about. Touching each one enables us to see the memories together."

I nodded and looked at the front door. "I want to see how jumbled everything is," I admitted, standing and offering her my hand.

She looked at me nervously, taking my hand to stand up. "Are you sure you want to see that?"

I nodded again and lead her towards the door before I could change my mind. I needed to see the mental state I was in, whether I wanted to admit to myself how bad I was or not.

I decided to let Wanda open the door, not knowing if she had more instructions for me. She was more experienced with this than I was. I was still unsure whether I could fully trust her with my mind or not yet. I knew I was dangerous, there was no telling whether one little trigger would cause my brain to collapse, and I didn't want that to hurt her.

She put her hand on the door handle and opened it for me. I stood at the entranceway for a moment, looking out at the grey mess that was my memory storage. A grey smoke surrounded the floor and, if we ventured out, would most likely reach my hips. Glass boxes were everywhere, scattered across the room. Some were on the floor and many were cracked or broken.

"I'm guessing it's not supposed to be like this?" I asked, watching as she stepped into the mist that swarmed around her. I took that as a sign and stepped out with her. I felt like I almost needed to protect her, but then I realised that I would only be protecting her from myself. How could I ever protect anyone from myself ever again? It was certain that no one would ever be safe around me again. That idea of getting married and having children in the 1940s faded with my memories.

"No," she said with a concerned tone. She bit her cheek as she looked around at my mess of a brain. "A normal person's memories are stacked in rows like...in Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix." I nodded, even though I had no clue what she was going on about. "The mist is always in people's brains, but it's only on the ground and not this thick or dark."

I reached up to touch one of the glass boxes, a fractured one, and I heard Wanda shout, but it was too late.

The image was a complete blur and my hearing felt muffled. Slight pieces of colour came into the frame, but not many. It was like I needed glasses to see what was going on.

"Pick on someone your own size!" I heard my own voice say and squinted to try and see what was going on, but everything after that was muffled and impossible to make out.

Suddenly, I was back in the grey misted room of ominous boxes with a very angry looking Wanda. A pain shot through my head and I shut my eyes, putting a hand on my head where it hurt.

"Idiot," she scolded and I seethed through my teeth at the pain. It wore off after a few seconds, but there was still a dull ache in the back of my head.

"I'm sorry." I opened my eyes and, thankfully, Wanda was looking less angry, more concerned about the pain.

"Are you okay?" she asked and I nodded, bringing my hand back to my side. The pain was wearing off, but my hearing was still a little funny. I shook my head trying to get my hearing back. It just hurt my head more. "I thought you would have the sense not to touch anything in here."

"I must be more stupid than I look," I replied, looking at the box that I had touched. It seemed to twitch and I got the impression that it was angry at me for some reason. Could a glass memory box be angry? Perhaps my memory was angry at me for poking it.