"Because through a memory I get to experience everything you saw, smelled, felt, heard or tasted."
"Because you're in that dry, hot box right?"
"Yes."
Meryn wrapped her arms around herself. She had experienced something similar growing up and wouldn't wish it on her greatest enemy. She looked across the room. Literally. As much as her brain wanted to avoid the memory of being in her grandmother's attic, it was tied to the one she wanted to give.
Those days in that attic had been hell on earth, but the days that followed had been some of the fewest happy childhood memories she had. "I think I have the one I want to exchange."
"Are you certain?"
"I am." She didn't know why she had chosen that particular memory, but it felt right. No matter how evil, no one deserved that kind of pain.
"I will place my hand on your head, you will need to think of a starting point and an end point. Once you show me the memory in its entirety, it will be gone."
"Ready."
When he placed his hand on her head and she felt the heat coming off of him she knew she had made the right choice. She closed her eyes and thought back.
She had been five or six. Still young enough to want her grandmother's love. She was confused why she had been dragged to the attic. It was hot, so very, very hot. It was hard to breathe because of the heat.
"Stay here until I come for you. If you upset my weekend, you'll be in trouble," her grandmother ordered.
"Yes, Grandma."
"What did I say about calling me that! Call me Estelle."
"Yes, Estelle," she replied, meekly.
When the door shut, she felt panic begin to claw at her. She looked around the room. She had a blanket on the plywood floor and a bucket in the corner. She went to the window and tried to open it. It was nailed shut. Feeling weak she went to the blanket and laid down.
"Just a couple days," she whispered.
Her mind fast forwarded. "Start here," she said out loud.
She heard the door creek open and a bit of cool air floated toward her. "Get down here."
Slowly, she forced herself to stand. She'd do anything to get out of that attic. She hurried as fast as she could down the stairs. The air felt so good on her face.
"Go outside, stay out of my way."
She nodded then went to the back door. She just wanted fresh air; she'd do anything to inhale fresh air that hadn't been heated by dry wood and scented by aging boxes. She hit the back door at a run and kept running until she was in the neighbor's yard. Sometimes, when she didn't think they were home, she'd hide in their covered gazebo. It was like her own private oasis. Today, she didn't care if she was seen, she needed to feel the wet ground under her bare feet and smell the wonderful flowers.
She sat on the soft covered bench and breathed deeply.
"Finally caught our little rabbit," a rough male voice commented.
Scared, she looked up. It was her neighbor, Mr. Vesling. "I'm sorry." She hopped to her feet.
He held his gnarled hand to his ear. "What was that I hear?"
She frowned. "I said I was sorry," she repeated a bit louder.
He chuckled and shook his head before reaching into his pocket. "I hear the ice cream truck. Do you think you're quick enough to grab us a few?" He handed her a few dollars.
"For ice cream, I can be!" She took the money and darted down his driveway. She had to catch that truck!
She spotted the white van and waited until all the other kids had their treats before approaching the window.