The Flames that Engulfed Us

Chapter 40: A Brief Visit

I was barely wearing any clothes, which was fine for the beach. It was not, however, fine for the building with the rows and rows of glass cells. It was cold. I looked at the man I didn't remember and had to adjust my pace to almost a run to keep up with his quick speed. He took me to the elevator, and I started to doubt my plans as we went up.

"Still a no on the memories?"

"I'm not giving the memories to you, for your own sake."

"But, I mean, won't it help if I actually remember him?"

"The visit will be brief. You remember enough."

"But..."
                           
  "No."
                             
I kept my walk-jog as he burst into movement again. Our footsteps burst through a silence that I almost felt guilty about breaking.
                            
"Stupid flip-flops," I muttered, stopping to peel them off my feet and then shivering again as they hit the cold floor.
                             
I ran to catch up, almost running into the man as he stopped abruptly. I did actually run into him, and he turned to glare at me.
          
"This is him."
                             
I felt bad, looking inside the glass like a tourist at a zoo, but that was the only way to look at him. Lincoln looked up, his eyes registering us despondently, then they settled on me. He looked with interest, and then a disbelief, eventually croaking out.
                             
"Sky? Sky, is that you?"
                             
I put my hand flat against the glass, trying to ignore how cold it was, and rested my forehead on it too. "Yes. It's me. Lincoln, it's me."
                             
He stood slowly, walking towards the glass, hesitant as though afraid he was dreaming, and he was only on a treadmill, like the dreams they always show on TV. He wasn't and soon his hand slid against the glass, so it was over mine, and he put his forehead, so it was like a mirror of mine. The man was right. I didn't need memories for this.
                             
Lincoln whispered, his voice barely audible through the glass.
                             
"I missed you. I miss you so-" he never was one for using clean language for expressing emotion. "much. I want to take you and wrap you up in my arms and never let go. I know I already did that, but I want to touch you. To prove that I'm not hallucinating. Stupid glass is in the way."
                             
I didn't remember what he was referring to, but I knew that the hole was me missing him. And I knew that I wanted his arms to wrap around me and his voice to tell me it would be okay, even if the Devil hadn't let me remember why.
                             
"I missed you too, Lincoln. I never, never want to be without you." I moved to open the door, but the devil caught my wrist before I even touched it. I watched Lincoln's eyes narrow on the exchange, wordless, quick, and definite.
                             
"Don't touch her. I swear to whoever's the god of this hell hole, don't touch her."
                             
The Devil looked at me and dropped my wrist. Then he leaned over to me.
                             
"There. I let you see him. Now we need to go back."
                             
Lincoln looked between us, and his head snapped up.
                             
"Go back? Do you want to go back?"
                             
I looked at his face, pleading with me to make the best decision for myself, but then also to stay with him. For a moment, I almost said that I would stay with him, but the Devil answered first.
                             
"We'll be heading back now, right Skylar?"
                             
It wasn't a chance for me to offer input, but a demand for me to leave with him. I looked at Lincoln, and I knew I wouldn't sleep at night if I didn't at least try to stay. For him, but more for me.
                             
"I want to stay a little while."
                             
"Skylar, how many times do I have to say that what you want isn't always going to be what's best for you? We're going back. Now come along."
                             
"Nope. I don't want to. And if we're discussing things I want—"
                             
"Do you want to discuss this in front of him?"
                             
Did I want Lincoln to know I didn't remember anything? Not really, but I wanted to remember more. Lincoln was looking at me too, and I think he wanted to know.
                             
"What's wrong with discussing how you, oh high and mighty, made me forget everything but my own name."
                             
"Apparently," the Devil hissed, "I did a bad job of it because you were still going 'Lincoln this, Lincoln that.' You're annoying when you talk about him. Did you know that? It's worse when you don't fully remember him either."
                             
I'm annoying? Does he think that I'm a pain in the butt? He ain't seen nothing yet. I am not annoying. I could get annoying real quick if he wanted, though.
                             
"You want annoying," I threatened, "I could give you the most irritation you've ever had in your miserable life."
                             
"Have at it, but I'm not giving you your memory back."
                             
I probably should have given Lincoln some explanation, but he accepted the challenge, and I wasn't backing down from that.
                             
"Why didn't you tell me it'd be so cold down here," I moaned, my voice high pitched and whiny like a child's. "I could've put on some real clothes too..."
                             
"Oh, shut up."
                             
"Excuse me? I will not shut up. I will... I will..." I couldn't think of anything to say, so I just fizzled out on my own. Shut down? Shut to the side? Strut up? It doesn't work.
                             
Lincoln looked at me.
                             
"Sky," he asked sounding exhausted, "what's going on?"
                             
I looked at him. "I'm sorry. I can't remember anything. I can remember you, like not what you've done or anything like that, but just the idea of you. I'm sorry."
                             
"It's not your fault. At least you remember something. You recognized me, and you weren't lying, or at least you've gotten a lot better when you said you missed me. And I'll love you no matter what, so it's going to be alright."
                             
I nodded, and put my hand on the door again to open the cell. The Devil didn't stop me this time as I went in, falling into Lincoln's arms.
                             
"I love you," he told me with a certain melody to the words that I hadn't even known I'd been craving.
                             
"I love you too."
                             
The cell door banged shut behind me, and I didn't care. The Devil looked in at me.
                             
"You don't even remember him, and you'd still give up heaven. You don't make sense. I promise that you don't."
                             
I buried my head in Lincoln's chest, and I wondered how many times I'd done that before. How many times had I done anything with him? I didn't know. And being with him made that seem alright.
                             
"I needed you," I whispered to him.
                             
"I needed you too," Lincoln replied, his hand rubbing my back gently, and I wished I could remember.
                             
The Devil cleared his throat, and I looked up at him looking disgusted. "I'll be back in the morning, and then you're going back."
                             
Then he walked away, and I clung to the warmth of Lincoln.
                             
"You look cold," he observed, releasing me from the embrace to kiss me. "I guess we only have one night. I don't want to waste a moment with you."