{Isabella}
I stare blankly at them. Their anguished faces looking desperately at me. I browse through Brooke's short memory. Her recovery, Lydia, the hospital, and ultimately every memory of the twins. Every fantasy she had with them at night made me squirm. How her memories of them weren't the best but they always held a hue of embarrassment, humor, happiness, and love. Love doesn't always have to be yelled out loud but can be present in your feelings. But I was not happy. Brooke's memories were messing up my head. Her feelings were blending in with mine and confusing me.
I wish I had never inherited her memories so I can form new feelings not used, borrowed, or already long-gone feelings. Those were her memories and feelings. Too bad I contrived to convince myself.
"No," I shrugged.
