“Please Papa! Please don’t!” A child’s voice shrieked in horror. Elijah frowned, what was this? He looked around; he was in some sort of room, a garage. There were tools and weapons around the side and a table with dry bloodstains in the middle. His attention fell to the man he recognised, who was smashing a child’s head into the floor repeatedly. Anger blazed through him as he ran over making to grab the man only for his hand to go right through him. He tried again but it was futile, was this a dream? Looking at the child who was covered in so much blood, her tiny hands clawing at the monster’s wrist. Elijah backed away his heart thudding, realisation hitting him hard. This was not a nightmare, it was a memory. Scarlett’s memory. He watched helplessly as Zidane dragged her by the hair across the room, picking up a large jug of liquid and stepping back flung it over the little girl. Her screams pierced Elijah’s heart, the colour draining from his face as he ran to her side,
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