Chapter 19 Memory Fragments
Bam Saralee woke up with a headache.
That, in itself, wasn't unusual.
What was unusual—
Was the feeling that something was wrong.
Not physically.
Not immediately.
But something deeper.
Something quiet.
Something that didn't sit right beneath her skin.
She stared at the ceiling of her dorm room, her expression blank, her breathing steady, but her mind—
Her mind was not.
"...what is this."
The words came out soft, almost absent.
Because there were traces.
Fragments.
Pieces of something she couldn't fully grasp.
A sensation.
Warmth.
Pressure.
A voice—
"...stay..."
Bam's eyes narrowed slightly.
Her fingers curled against the sheets.
"That's..."
Familiar.
Too familiar.
But not in a way that made sense.
Not in a way she could place logically.
She sat up slowly, pressing a hand against her temple as the faint throb in her head intensified.
It wasn't pain.
Not exactly.
It was more like—
Resistance.
Like her mind was trying to push something away.
"...this again."
Because this wasn't the first time.
There had been moments before.
Small lapses.
Unexplainable gaps in memory.
But they were always vague.
Blurry.
Easily dismissed.
This—
Was different.
This felt clearer.
Sharper.
And that made it worse.
---
Her day started like it always did.
Routine.
Structured.
Controlled.
Bam walked across campus with her usual composure, her posture straight, her expression unreadable.
Students greeted her.
She acknowledged them.
Everything was normal.
Everything was—
Wrong.
Because every now and then—
Something slipped.
A flash.
A fragment.
A feeling that didn't belong in her carefully maintained control.
A hand gripping fabric.
Warmth against her neck.
"...you came back..."
Bam stopped walking.
Just for a second.
Just long enough for her breath to catch.
"...no."
That wasn't right.
That wasn't—
Her.
She didn't say things like that.
She didn't feel things like that.
Her chest tightened slightly.
Not painfully.
But enough to make her aware of it.
And Bam—
Didn't like being aware.
---
"Are you okay?"
Bam blinked.
Mint stood in front of her, her gaze sharp, observant, already noticing too much.
"I'm fine," Bam replied immediately.
Mint didn't look convinced.
"You paused."
"I was thinking."
"You don't usually stop in the middle of the walkway to think."
"That's an exaggeration."
"It's an observation."
Bam exhaled slowly.
"...it's nothing."
Mint studied her.
Long.
Carefully.
Then—
"...you're remembering."
Bam froze.
The words landed too precisely.
Too accurately.
"...what."
Mint didn't soften her tone.
Didn't hesitate.
"Fragments."
Bam's chest tightened.
"That's not—"
"It is."
Silence stretched between them.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Bam looked away first.
"...it doesn't mean anything."
Mint's gaze didn't waver.
"It does."
"No," Bam said, her voice firmer now. "It doesn't."
Because if it did—
If those fragments meant something—
Then that meant—
Something was happening.
Something she didn't control.
Something she didn't understand.
And that—
Was unacceptable.
---
The club room felt different that day.
Or maybe Bam did.
She sat at her usual spot, her posture composed, her expression neutral, but her focus—
Scattered.
Because every now and then—
It happened again.
A flicker.
A whisper.
A memory that wasn't fully formed.
"...don't go..."
Her grip tightened slightly around her pen.
No.
That wasn't hers.
That wasn't—
Her.
She didn't sound like that.
Didn't need like that.
Didn't—
Her gaze lifted.
And landed—
On Oom Eisaya.
Across the room.
Talking to Yada.
Laughing softly.
Unaware.
Bam's chest tightened again.
Stronger this time.
"...why."
She didn't understand it.
Didn't understand why her attention kept drifting back there.
Why her focus kept slipping.
Why—
Every time she looked at Oom—
Something stirred.
Something unfamiliar.
Something—
Uncontrolled.
---
Oom laughed at something Yada said.
Soft.
Unrestrained.
And Bam—
Froze.
Because for a split second—
The world shifted.
Not physically.
But internally.
Because that sound—
That exact sound—
Felt known.
Felt—
Close.
"...I know that."
The realization came quietly.
But it hit harder than anything else.
Because she didn't just recognize it.
She felt it.
In her chest.
In her thoughts.
In that strange, unfamiliar warmth she couldn't explain.
"...that's not possible."
She didn't spend enough time with Oom for that.
She barely interacted with her during the day.
She didn't—
Her breath caught.
Because another fragment surfaced.
Clearer this time.
Closer.
"...you stayed..."
Bam's hand tightened around her pen.
It snapped.
The sound was small.
But sharp.
Immediate.
Everyone turned.
Bam didn't react.
Didn't move.
Didn't acknowledge it.
Because she wasn't focused on them.
She was focused on—
That.
That voice.
That feeling.
That memory that refused to stay buried.
---
"Bam."
Tantan's voice.
Calm.
Observant.
Bam looked up slowly.
"Yes?"
Tantan tilted her head slightly.
"You're distracted."
"I'm not."
"You broke your pen."
"It was defective."
"That's one explanation."
Bam held her gaze.
"...you have another."
Tantan's lips curved slightly.
"I always do."
Bam didn't respond.
Didn't engage.
Because she didn't have the energy for it.
Not right now.
Not when her mind felt like it was slipping.
---
Across the room—
Oom was watching.
She tried not to.
Tried to act normal.
Tried to focus on anything else.
But she noticed.
Of course she noticed.
The way Bam seemed... off.
The way her posture was just slightly more tense.
The way her reactions were delayed.
"...something's wrong," Oom murmured.
Yada glanced at her.
"You noticed too?"
Oom nodded.
"She's different."
"More than usual?"
"...yeah."
Yada leaned back slightly, her gaze thoughtful.
"That's not good."
"No," Oom agreed quietly. "It's not."
---
Bam stood abruptly.
The movement was sudden enough to draw attention again.
"I'm leaving early."
No explanation.
No elaboration.
Just—
A decision.
Tantan raised an eyebrow.
"Everything okay?"
"Yes."
It came too quickly.
Too automatic.
But no one questioned it.
Because Bam—
Didn't invite questions.
She walked out without looking back.
But just before she reached the door—
She paused.
Just slightly.
And her gaze—
Flickered.
Back.
To Oom.
For a second.
Two.
Then—
She left.
---
That night—
Bam didn't go to the club room.
She stayed in her dorm.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, her hands resting loosely in her lap, her mind—
Unstable.
Because the fragments—
Were getting worse.
Clearer.
Harder to ignore.
"...stay..."
Her breath hitched.
"...you're here..."
Her eyes squeezed shut.
"No."
That wasn't real.
That wasn't happening.
That wasn't—
Her.
She stood abruptly, pacing the room, her movements sharp, controlled, but her thoughts—
Anything but.
Because now—
It wasn't just voices.
It was sensations.
Warmth.
Pressure.
Familiarity.
Like something had happened.
Something real.
Something she couldn't remember—
But her body did.
"...this is wrong."
Her voice was firmer now.
Grounded.
Because she needed it to be.
Needed control.
Needed distance.
Needed—
To stop this.
Because whatever this was—
It was breaking through.
Cracking something open.
And Bam—
Was not ready for that.
Not now.
Not ever.
"...I won't let this happen."
The words were quiet.
But certain.
Because if there was one thing Bam Saralee refused to do—
It was lose control.
Even if it meant—
Pushing everything else away.
Even if it meant—
Ignoring whatever was trying to surface.
Even if it meant—
Forgetting.
Again.
---
Somewhere else—
Oom stood outside the club room.
Waiting.
Like she always did.
But tonight—
The door stayed closed.
The lights stayed off.
And for the first time—
Bam didn't come.
"...that's new," Oom whispered.
Her chest tightened.
Something felt off.
Wrong.
Different.
And she didn't like it.
Not one bit.
Because for the first time—
The routine had broken.
And Oom—
Had no idea why.