Amnesia: Difference between revisions

Every now and again, I get flashbacks. Flashbacks of a time that only I and my peers can seem to remember. They come in images or blurry fragments of memories, but they're there. I'm writing this as I look at my mother and father in the kitchen. They care so much about me, but they're so oblivious, so…so... complacent. I love and care about them, but often their presence brings little more than sadness when I think of what horrors befell upon them.