The Memory Trial

"Ms. Sutton, she seems to be resisting the system.

"She's refusing to let us extract that memory."

"Refusing?" Claire repeated.

Her face went dark. She slammed a palm onto the console.

"Rachel Vale, after all this, you are still fighting me?

"Who is worth protecting with your life? He is a rapist!"

Ten years ago, Claire had asked me the same question in the same voice.

After Lily's final note was found, I became the center of the town's rage. Everyone demanded the attacker's name.

At first Claire refused to believe I could protect him. Her doubt took less than a day to turn into accusation.

She was the only one who knew I had fled to a cave with Buddy.

When the town killed him, I begged them to stop. Claire picked up a wooden stick and brought it down on my head.

Blood blurred my vision.

She stared at me with bloodshot eyes and screamed, "Rachel, we grew up together. Lily and I treated you like a sister. What were we to you?

"For a rapist, you threw away the people who mattered most?"

That night, the town nearly beat me to death.

Claire's mother dragged her away after that. Two days later, the Sutton family moved across the state and never came back.

Now Claire stood in front of me with the same frozen eyes.

She lifted her hand.

"Expand it again. I don't care what it takes."

The technician hesitated.

"Ms. Sutton, her body is extremely weak. If we widen the extraction while she is resisting this hard...

"She may not survive."

Claire laughed coldly.

"Survive?

"I spent years building this machine so I could uncover the truth. Her life is not my concern.

"People like her are better off dead."

The technician, trembling, increased the parameters.

The machine roared. The helmet needles stabbed deeper.

Pain shattered me.

Blood poured from my nose, my ears, the corners of my eyes. My chest burned as if someone had lit a fire inside it.

The technician's voice shook.

"Ms. Sutton... should we continue?

"She's almost gone."

Claire stared at the screen.

"Continue."

The machine screamed louder.

My own screams echoed across the square.

Claire's eyes reddened. Suddenly she lost control and shouted, "Rachel, who is it?

"Who is worth this?"

Then she broke.

She leaned against my shoulder and cried so hard her whole body shook.

"We were your friends," she sobbed. "We were your friends."

Her tears fell hot against my hand.

Somewhere beneath the pain, I heard her.

My Claire was crying.

Instinctively, I tried to lift my hand and wipe her tears away.

That single moment of weakness was enough.

The memory I had buried for ten years burst onto the screen.

The crowd gasped.

Claire turned sharply.

On the screen, rain lashed through the woods.