Game Theory × NH

031 | gallium

× Horan

I could just blame evolutionary biology for my painful memories. Our brains are hardwired from caveman times to remember the bad stuff to help keep you alive. Which is ironic really, because what I needed right then to stay alive was the good stuff, the fun stuff, the uplifting and hopeful.

The manila envelope lay on the rug next to my feet, all its contents spilled out around me. I was sitting in the middle of the room in stunned silence for the past five minutes, lost and utterly hollow from Lynn's exit.

I didn't even remember the last time I opened the envelope. God, it was a long time - before I even got into university, I believed. I forgot about the envelope when I brought my guitar through the three years of UNI so far. It wasn't something I wanted to travel back in time for.

There was a particular picture that caught my eye sticking out from under the bed. Stiffly, I picked it up. It was of a girl - she was seventeen, the same age as me when the picture was taken - smiling at the camera; her dusky blue eyes squinting in amusement. Her dark brown hair was down, slick and shiny against her pale Irish skin. There were two little freckles on her nose and a little dimple on her chin.

I rubbed my thumb against the shiny photograph, remembering when I took it. We were at the park just outside my backyard with the football goal that I used to go to everyday after school. I smiled at the memory of her sitting on the ball and then falling off backwards, making her contagious laugh boom through the park.

She always had some kind of picture taking device whether it was a digital camera, a phone, or a Polaroid.

"I always have to be ready," she had told me when I questioned her about it one time, "You just never know what you will see."

Alina Findlay was her name.

And Lynn Mercury reminded me of her.

There were pictures of us together all around me along with some postcards she had sent when she traveled to Spain one summer with long letters she had written, telling me what a wonderful time she was having. The floor around me was full of past memories that I both wanted to remember and forget for a bunch of different reasons.

The more and more I looked at the photograph, the more and more I wondered why she left me. The thought of her didn't make me sad anymore, just angry and muddled. She didn't leave anything behind to tell me why she did it, she just left.

And the more and more I looked at her, the more and more I was confused about everything.

× × ×

It was not okay in the least, but as soon as I stuffed a backpack full of clothes, my laptop, and necessary textbooks I had originally gone to get before I was offensively interrupted by someone going through my shit, I found a bathroom and didn't leave until I had my relief because there was no way in hell I was going to be walking around with a fucking boner.

It was a violation, I knew that, but it was proof I could get through this. I would probably have to masturbate until my dick fell off, but I'd never been known for decency in my room, anyway. If Lynn was going to continue to make me feel this way, then it was a necessity. What was the alternative? Was that even a line I wanted to wholeheartedly cross?

It was eleven by the time I got back to Jace's room.

"What took you so long?" he asked when I stepped inside