Dealing with Memories

The day wore on. There was little conversation in the group, save for Lacier's attempts at comforting Lethe. Which didn't really help. Occasional sobs drifted from Lethe as she tried to sort it all out. Sorting out 17 years of memories in one day. And her eyes remained the bloody red all over, not showing the whites, just pure red. She looked as if she was bleeding tears, what with her teardrops as red as her eyes and seemed to stain just as well. Her desk was a distraught, cluttered mess, a state that was only compounded with crimson-soaked tissue all over. And just a day ago, they would never have thought that anything like this was possible.

Break came just after FullLight. As they sat down together at a long bench with their food, she finally spoke, albeit waveringly. "I... I've sorted out most of her teen years. But I don't dare touch her preadolescent years. Fr.. From what I've gleaned, she was..... abused. She grew up to be hard, because she had to be. I don't want to touch those memories."
"Then don't! You shouldn't torture yourself like this!" Kestrel exclaimed.
"But.. But I have to. If I don't, it'll haunt my dreams. And it'll be worse then." She said it, feeling as if life was a torture.
The silence was awkward. "You know, if it wasn't for the fact that you'd absorb my memories, I'd hug you and pat you on the back. But I'm not good at comforting. All I can say is, I'm sorry." Styx said.
"Curses and gifts." Cocytus muttered.
"What?"
"Curses and gifts. Styx, yours is a gift. And Lethe, yours is a curse. I can only wonder what I will get."
Break ended. Going back to lessons was easier then, knowing that her friends were behind her, giving her emotional support. But she knew, she had to sort out the memories. She didn't ask for this. She never wanted anything like this. But somehow, she knew that she would become more and more skilled in this, to the point where she could organise the memories in an instant. How she knew, she did not know. But it did not matter, for she knew with a strange certainty that bordered on presience. The day was long here, as all days were. 50 hours in a day, the magics had caused this school to have, the better to maximise the studying time. Yet, for all the time discrepancies, when they exited the school, their timing would revert back to what they knew as 'proper'.
As Halflight approached, the students went back to their dormitories to rest and finish undone work. Lethe refreshed herself, dreading the night, fearing that she may have missed something out. No doubt, dreams were no longer the retreat they were, where she could escape harsh realities. Now, it was a exaggeration of reality's horrors, to be feared of. She was not wrong.
She went to her bed, taking what comfort could be found in her beddings. Slowly, she drifted off, despite trying to keep herself awake.

It was dark. A glow reminiscent of Falselight surrounded her. There was a figure. It strode towards her and it was actually a he. He wore a white shirt and long pants which seemed more like the effect of negatives on black, rather than pure and proper white. A pair of sunglasses kept his eyes hidden. He reached her.
"Hello." He said, in an echoing voice which seemed like multiple voices all speaking at the same time. It was sibilant and sinister. "You are Lethe. One of us. A Memory." He stepped closer. He said it as a statement. "Interesting. Your eyes are green and purple this time. Mine are, well, were brown and blue."
Lethe finally managed to open her mouth. "Who are you?" She whispered.
"Me? You should ask yourself that. I am Lethe. I am you."
"Your... your eyes..." She needed to see, look into his eyes to know.
He laughed softly. "Funny. That's what I asked you." He took off the sunglasses.

Lethe screamed and woke, heart pounding, sweat covering her face. It seemed that the scream was uttered only in the dream, nobody was awake but her. She heard a whisper on the wind, "Just how I reacted..." and she shivered. She didn't sleep for the rest of the night, dwelling on her dream, and what she saw. For, as the figure took off the shades, his eyes were not eyes, but small, nightmarish mouths rimmed with razor sharp pointed teeth, ready to bite out her eyes.