"Come to mommy."
Another memory I haven't seen before. Or perhaps truly just a dream? I told Sister before that I could remember the events of what happened to me when I was two years old, but she laughed at me and told me it was impossible.
Maybe she was right? After all, how could a mother who killed his own son be this… affectionate?
"L-look! Mom, he's walking!"
"Six-month-old babies aren't supposed to walk, Alice. What in the hell is even that?"
"Mom!"
Six months? This makes this my second-earliest memory. Perhaps they really are only dreams?
"And the boy's not actually walking! Look, he's just staring at us without a thought in his mind!"
"Because he's a baby! Come, Riley. Don't listen to your grandma, okay?"
Grandmother? Her? But she looks almost as young as me. Not infant me, but me. But still, young. Perhaps this truly is just a dream and not a memory. But who are you, Grandmother?
