"Sometimes, memories are the reason why we can't move on."

M A R K

For many people, memories were just an escape from reality. But me? Reality was all I had.

That's what I was thinking as I (illegally) tried to steal my student records from Mr. Vidius's drawer. And as I did so, the words I repeated to myself each day routinely, came naturally.

"My name is Mark. I don't recall my surname, family or my home life. There was a civil war. Many people died. I'm alive, I'm one of the ability subjects. I don't remember how that happened; I don't remember anything."

I whispered this to myself over and over while rummaging through the drawer. Pages and pages of information glared up at me as I struggled to find my own files. Names and names of people I knew, people who had died, people who I'd never heard of in my life but none of them were my own.

And finally...towards the bottom of the seemingly endless pit of useless facts:

MARK –––––

You have got to be kidding––

Footsteps. Loud ones. Coming towards the door.

Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit. This was not good.

Hurriedly, I shoved the record into my pocket for later and looked around the office in a panic. There had to be another door somewhere.

News flash: there wasn't.

That was it. The end. This was the story of how I died at the hands of my grouchy, sleep-deprived teacher. I groaned in defeat and leaned back on the windowsill, accepting my fate. And look, before this happened, I'd never ever experienced that light bulb moment I'd seen in cartoons as a kid...But if that feeling does exist, it would have gone like this.

"WINDOW!" I yelled, excitedly––like the idiot I am––and immediately clamped a hand over my mouth in panic, grabbed the handle of the window and pushed it open.

The footsteps were approaching closer.

Shaking from anticipation, I shoved myself through the open window, head first and completely fearless (that was a lie, I was even more scared than the time I almost burned the school down while trying to boil water, and that's saying something).

For the record, it's not the best idea to climb through a window head first––I should know since I was pretty much dangling there for several seconds. Thank me later.

At the exact moment of my struggle to get down, a girl with dirty blonde hair and a half confused–half amused expression on her face stopped in her tracks to stare at me. I waved awkwardly at her. Nothing to see here, just an idiot trying to escape.

Then I practically flew out and landed face-flat on the grass.

♡♡♡

Long story short: I survived. I survived with about five bruises, a broken nose, a cut above my eyebrow (hell yeah, I looked like a villain), and a damaged reputation with that one girl I didn't know but now she knew me as that guy who tried to climb out a window and forgot it was on the second floor.

And so I pushed that horrible experience out of my mind and focused on reading the rest of my––mostly redacted––student files.

Why did they have to redact so much information???

I'd read over it about five or six times and all I found out was that my name is Mark and that my birthday is November 17th. Both things I already knew.

It was essential that I find my memories. I needed to find my memories.

Damn whoever did this to me. Do you know how much torture it is when a war has ended and you think you're all fine and dandy but noooo, you now have some severe traumas and don't remember anything about your past at all. And then some random dude comes in, tells you that you have some cool chemical in your brain like the rest of the generation and it means you have these 'abilities' that basically just expose what you need most––whether it's someone recognising your emotional needs, a defence mechanism, or whatever.

Yeah! It's not fun.

With these thoughts racing through my mind. I grabbed my notebook, rubbing my neck nervously while I traced the scar imprinted several inches below my ear. My ability. It has been there since I woke up on the first day I could remember nothing; it senses my emotions and changes itself to describe my exact feelings at every exact moment. Cool, right? Yeah, no. I turned to the mirror.

Right then, it said: frustrated.

"Ya think?" I scoffed.

I turned back to my notebook. It reads the same thing on every line, every page, and every margin. It reads the only thing I remembered hearing on the first day.

It reads: "You won't remember, you'll be worthless. No one will care... no one ever did."

I could still hear the voice echoing in my head. Three years and I still heard it. Just then, the door slammed open. Yelping, I jumped back and shut the book––I also aimlessly chucked it at the wall, desperate to hide any evidence of my amnesia.

"Sheesh, calm down. It's just me," Nico laughed as he strode confidently into our dorm. He paused, looking me up and down. "What happened to you? Got into a fight or something?"

"Fell down the stairs," I cleared my throat nervously. "Can't you knock?"

"Nah," he plopped himself down on my bed. "What's wrong, Markaroo?" he asked worriedly. I raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing."

"Your uh––the scar says otherwise," he pointed out. Great, thanks! As if I didn't already know.

"Yeah well, it's being stupid," I mumbled.

"Speak for yourself," Nico said in a disgruntled voice. His usually blond hair turned a bright shade of red and I tried to figure out what the colour meant this time. Anger? Passion? There were so many possibilities.

"Hey, at least you don't have to pay to get your hair dyed. Your feelings do it for you," I teased, walking over to where I'd lovingly thrown my notebook as I picked it up off the ground.

"Yeah," Nico said sarcastically, "I got a two-in-one deal. A war with a free hair salon! Isn't that fun?"

"Pretty rubbish deal."

"Exactly," he replied.

"What do we have tomorrow?" I decided to open up another subject.

"Ability research."

"Ugh."

"I know."

Oh. I despised ability research lessons.

Everyone always expects you to open up about your past and be like 'Oh, my ability is soooo useful because it would have helped me during the war!'

Like, no. I don't want to talk about the war I don't remember and my stupid, exposing power. I don't want to talk about my past and let people know that it doesn't exist anymore.

I was fucking exhausted.

♡♡♡

"Gooood morning, Mr Vidius!" Nico said as we walked into class the following day. Vidius glared, the shadows beneath his eyes clearer than ever that day; his attitude weary, as if he wanted to go back to bed. It wasn't any different from usual.

Same, Mr Vidius. Same here.

I sat down and laid my head on the table, I figured I could get in half an hour of sleep while Vidius attempted to look like he didn't just rise from Hades's lair. But hell no, my idiot thought otherwise.

"What do you think we're working on today, huh?" he asked, "is he going to ask me up again to the front and embarrass me just so everyone could see my hair turn pink, or will it be you this time? You can't tell me it wouldn't be funny to see 'flustered' written all over you."

"Shut up," I grumbled.

"Or will he call Amira up and make her go invisible? She's kind of hard to trigger though, he'd have to think of something good."

"Nico, shut it," I replied, "he only called you up last time 'cause you were acting like an annoying little––" I paused for a second and reconsidered my words, "––pigeon." I finished.

"So are you. And pigeons are cool," he scoffed, and then he grinned. "Are you excited about the project?"

I looked up. If I was about to hear that I'd dozed off in a lesson and missed a vital piece of information again I was going to cry.

"What project?"

Nico opened his mouth to supposedly reply but that was when Vidius decided to begin class.

Wow, what wonderful timing.

"Right," he muttered sleepily, "um, I'm sure you know that you have an upcoming assessed project that you'll be working on soon."

I was already starting to doze off.

"When you kids began to develop your abilities, you didn't know why they were or what they are for. This project gives you the opportunity to figure out how the past affected your abilities," he droned on. "It also allows you to look through student records without stealing from my office," he quickly glanced at me as he said that. I slouched guiltily in my chair with a sheepish expression on my face. Then I realised what he'd said before.

"What?" I thought.

Oh. I said that out loud, didn't I?

"Yes? Uh––Mason?" Vidius rubbed his temple wearily. "Is there a problem?"

"Mark," I corrected, "there isn't a problem, sorry." I flushed with embarrassment.

"Thank you, Mark," Vidius said.

I looked down at my desk, bouncing my leg nervously. This project didn't sound good, not good at all. A whole month of working with someone and telling them I don't remember a single thing and having them tell everyone and then I'll be exposed and I'll lose Nico and Amira and everyone will hate me and I'll be worthless and everyone will hate me because I won't be useful without my memories and fuck this amnesia and I hate this I hate everyone what am I going to do?

"So," Mr Vidius clapped his hands together half-heartedly, "you'll be paired up with someone in this class to work with and the aim is to share as much as you can about your pasts and explore how this has affected your abilities."

"Oh, great," the girl sitting behind me groaned. She turned to her friend (whom I recognised as the girl who saw me fall out that window). "Kill me now," she said.

That's relatable.

"Hey, you good?" Nico nudged my arm "You look a little pale, do you wanna take a step outside?"

I shook my head, I'd forgotten I wasn't alone in the room. I needed to get a grip on myself.

"Just tired," I whispered. I focused my attention back on the floor, ignoring whatever the hell Vidius was saying. After a couple of seconds, I noticed Nico slide his coffee cup to my side of the desk. I gave him a quick smile before grabbing the drink, and took slow sips––trying to calm my nerves. He cared too much.

Great, another reason to not tell him about my memory loss.

I don't want to be alone.

♡♡♡

I couldn't think straight that night.

I lifted my hood to shield myself from the pouring rain. My wet fringe stuck to my forehead, my hair cascading below my ears as the rain began to get heavier, soaking my clothes and I began to wish that I'd brought an umbrella.

Yeah, maybe a walk wasn't the best way to calm me down. Especially not that late at night. I should've listened to Nico and stayed inside.

"Dammit, Mark. Why did you even go out tonight?" I said to myself in a disgruntled voice, "idiot." But just when I spoke, I walked into something, tumbling to the ground, losing my train of thought.

Oh wait, that wasn't an object.

It was a person.

I looked up, expecting to see the object I'd walked into, but instead, I was greeted with a panicked, worried feminine face. Her eyes widened with fear when she looked up at me and her gaze kept flickering to my forearm, for some reason. I looked back at her in confusion and it was only when she spoke that I realised that there was a candle and a book on the ground beside us.

"You're on fire."

a/n – FIRST CHAPTER OF THE REWRITE COMPLETE????????? what do you guys think? better than the og? or not? AND OUR SWEET BOY MARK GETTING HIMSELF INTO TROUBLE AGAIN HAHA.

anyway, we should keep the question of the chapter thing going. so, for this chapter's question: HOW HAVE Y'ALL BEEN????? istg i barely have time to keep in touch with wattpad friends and i've missed you all so much pls update me on ur life haha. and if ur new here i'd LOVE to get to know you!!! <3 anyway, love ya and have a great day/night. pls vote/comment!!!