Charles did the best he could to wipe away the smeared edges of memories that would not dovetail. There were gaps and odd thoughts and dangling threads in the history Charles put down on paper every night, but he had to finish his story before the wispy imagery faded for good. Charles didn't care the family remembered his accident differently, but he did stop asking about Dana. In the version of events his family chose to believe, Charles wasn't married. The love of his life escaped harm because, apparently, Dana didn't exist. Charles collected more pieces each time he set his mind to work. The impressions that floated to the surface made Charles break out in a cold sweat, but he wrote despite the discomfort. Charles forged ahead to capture the truth as it emerged, gruesome, blood soaked, and familiar.
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