The dream began as it had for months. Opening with the sound of a clock ticking in time with her pulse. In time with her heart. Hot against her skin. A live thing.

Then, a scream, her scream, and a blinding flash of white light. Next came the heat, rolling and plunging like acid waves on sand, emptying her insides until there was nothing left but an empty shell. Her spine lifted from the cold surface upon which she lay, and jerked in a series of contorted spasms. The light and heat continued to alternate, rushing and blinding, until there was nothing left but pain.

This is where the dream usually stopped.

Tonight, it continued.

A steady electrical whine replaced the blinding flashes and voices rose to her attention. They were garbled, as though spoken through water. She tried to open her eyes, only to find that she couldn't seem to locate her lid muscles. In fact, she couldn't find any muscles at all, or anything that connected her brain to her body. She was paralysed from head to toe, bar her apparent ability to scream.

Suddenly, the voices crystallised into words, sentences... a dialogue. One voice was male, the other, female. They were arguing.

"What are you doing?" the woman said. "You can't turn down the setting in the middle of a cycle. You'll compromise the procedure."

"The voltage is too high. It's hurting her," the man replied.

"How do you know?"

"She's screaming."

"Her brain's more developed than the other children we get through here. We have to use a higher voltage or her memories will stick."

"She might die before she forgets."

"That's a risk we'll just have to take."

"I don't like it."

"Director's orders."

The arguing continued, but Ash was distracted. The electrical whine was getting louder and louder until that was all she could hear. All of a sudden, the white light and heat was rolling and searing her nerves again, this time falling like blows upon an open wound. Her mind reared, whinnied, and gave one final buck, before it relented to the pain, caved in, gave up. One final scream ripped through her throat, just as a finale of fireworks burst behind her eyes. She felt extinguished, heavy, numb, like a thick blanket had descended on her body and wrapped around her nerves.

Exhaustion.

It pulled her spine back onto the bed and bled the spasms away from her body.

Her mind rang like the dome of a bell. She couldn't remember her own name.

Everything was empty save for—

Tick, tick, tick.

The metronomic sound in time with her heart. A sound that could be muted by the noise of the day, but which would always be there to accompany her dreams.

***

Ash woke in a sweat and lay there, still, staring at the bulging springs of the bunk bed above. One-by-one, she tested her muscles, relieved to find they were no longer paralysed. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and like a swimmer diving into deep water, she plunged back into the memory of the dream before the essence of it was lost. Something about the dream spoke of importance. Something told her it wasn't a dream at all ...

Her conscious mind recalled the events of her subconscious with analytical precision. She remembered the blinding flashes of heat and light, which she pushed aside with a shudder. She recalled the voices, one male and one female, which she didn't recognise as voices she knew.

Then she recalled what the voices were saying.

It'll compromise the procedure.She's older than the others. Her memories might stick.

Her eyes sprang open and she gulped air, resurfacing from her free-dive without grace. She was trembling all over and no matter how much she tried to dismiss the idea, there was no denying the obvious conclusion. She'd had a memory. Not a vague recollection of the previous day's events, or those of the past week or year. This was a memory dragged from the depths of her mind. One that had been lost as soon as it was made. One she was never supposed to recover.

She trembled harder as she grasped its meaning. Before tonight, she could've sworn her former life was lost to her, that all memories formed before she'd turned eight had been pulled from the root and tossed out. From the moment she woke up in the orphanage ten years ago, all she knew was how to eat and speak and do the things all normal kids could do. But everything that connected her to the first eight years of her life was gone. It was like she was a hermit crab that had abandoned one shell and found another, keeping nothing of sentimental value.

Her brother was the only person to have brought on a vague sense of recognition. It was the smell of his hair and the exact temperature of his skin that made her senses buzz with familiarity. They'd been inseparable. The nurses had become worried that they'd fall in love and have a child with genetic disorders, so had told them they were twins. The news hadn't come as a shock to Jai or Ash. Somehow, they'd already known.

Now, Ash's travelled back to the dream. Could it be possible that she'd just recovered a memory of the procedure that took her former life away? If so, did that mean her mind was slowly repairing itself like those starfish that could grow back a leg? Did it mean that one day, she might remember... everything?

She shook her head. No. She couldn't let herself believe that. But it was too late, hope lodged in her mind like a one-way barb. Thankfully, she was saved from having to remove it by the morning bell, which rattled her brain, dispelling all thoughts of the dream. She'd worry about it later. For now, it was Release Day. If she was going to impress the recruiters, she'd have to scab a shower. Nobody in their right mind would hire a girl that looked and smelled like a rat.

She stumbled towards the door, ignoring the sudden display of fireworks clouding her vision and picked up the garbage bag at the entrance with her name on it. Inside, a clean white towel, grey shirt and blue jeans were neatly folded and ironed; the package completed by bright white sneakers. They were the first proper clothes she'd ever owned.

The security system disarmed, the doors unlocked with a heavy clunk and she slung the bag over her shoulder to join the steady stream of orphans heading towards the bathrooms. She thrust out her chest, glared a path through the crowd and secured a spot near the front of the line. It moved in three minute intervals which dragged like hours.

Finally, she burst into the nearest empty stall and locked herself inside, shaking the door to make sure it was secure. The tepid water poured forth in a gush and she winced as it stung the fresh scabs on her arm. She was about to start peeling off the bandaid where the drip had been, when the ticking of the water gauge on the wall reminded her of her three minutes. She left it there and grabbed a scrubbing brush from the steel canister and pumped as much soap onto it as possible. It smelled of cherry cough syrup.

She worked the brush down her body, beginning with her face and ending with her feet, watching the bubbles turn brown and her skin baby pink. She pumped more soap onto her brush and began lathering it through her hair, attempting to untangle the matted strands with her fingers. But it was no use. With each knot she untangled, another one took its place.

She was about to give up and wash the suds away when the timer ticked over and the water cut out. She thumped it with her fist. Her hair was still full of foam, while soap scum gathered in the creases of her sinewy stomach muscles. She needed one more burst of water. That was all. But the little black box just sat there, smug in all its inertness. If it had had a face, it would've been smiling.

She reached for her towel and began drying herself in a vigorous sandpapering motion, trying to console herself with the fact that at least she didn't smell like dead rat. She was about halfway through pulling on the standard issue Release Day clothes when a heavy hand pounded the shower door. "Come on, drawler. Whatcha doing? Rubbing yourself up or some what? Get!"

She finished dressing with intentional slowness, even took the time to tie her shoelaces into double knots. She breathed deeply to stem the building rage, telling herself what her brother would say. You don't want a black eye in front of the recruiters.

She'd just managed to calm herself, when the heavy hand thumped the stall again, interrupting her feeble attempt at self-control.

"Your mum was a whore and now her baby's fucking the showerhead. Let me peek you, drawler. Come on. Show us your face—"

In one swift movement, she released the lock on the door and kicked it open so hard that it smashed into her tormentor mid-sentence. The foul-mouthed girl gave a startled moan and stumbled back, feet squeaking the tiles. Ash stepped out of the stall, hands twitching at the prospect of a brawl. The girl was mammoth, twice her size, with arms like tree-trunks and hands like bowls, which she used to stem the flow of her bleeding nose. Great dollops dripped between her sausage fingers and onto the bright white tiles.

She cowered when she saw Ash, regret making her double chin wobble. "I didn't realise it was you. I didn't mean me words. I'm apologies, girly." She dipped her head like a grovelling dog.

Ash faltered. The mammoth girl's pleas reminded her of the gangly orphan's and she was still too fraught with the memory of his blackened features to do what needed to be done. Her hands dropped to her sides. She couldn't give this girl what she deserved. Not today. She side stepped and stalked away.

The mammoth girl hollered. "Thank you, girly. Thank you." Her voice was filled with genuine gratitude.

Ash kept walking, her half-dried hair leaving a watery trail behind her. The children in the shower line scrambled out of the way, wide eyes following her out. They, too, couldn't believe the mammoth girl's luck.

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Hello again readers! A question for the scene: What do you guys reckon Ash's dream means? Would love to hear your thoughts!

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PHOENIX + BONUS EPILOGUE can be purchased at:

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