[ WP ] A machine has been invented that allows people to delete one memory of their choosing , but the machine can only be used once per person . You go to have your memory altered after a particularly emotional situation , only to find that you have already used the machine .

Candice slides Sue, eyes remote, onto the ground. Blood drips, it ’ s saturating her sleeve, it ’ s hers. Heart pounds, adrenaline recedes, pain ascends, crackling along nerves and muscle fibers, torn. 
 
 As her heated mind cools, details surface. Sue, gored, mouth agape. Sue ’ s hair across her face in a knot, an interweaving of blood and gold, a blasted mandala embroidering an open mouth. 
 
 Candice feels anger rise again, and knowing her cognitive options, she picks up a stone and hefts it. Gathering herself, she stands. Gathering herself she shuffle-steps, extends her arm to its utmost, and drives downward. Sue ’ s skull is a modest resistance, sharp then soft. Candice looks. Better to be in shock as she ’ s wiped. 
 
 Thirty minutes later, Candice slides through a brain scanner. Consequences swarm and network, neurons bathe in electromagnetic energy. Sue had forced her hand. Sue was responsible. In another week, she, Candice, would be the one … Some enemies you kill. 
 
 Twenty minutes later, Candice is numb and dulled by painkillers. A doctor enters her room and sits across from her. 
 
 “ I ’ m aware that you ’ re deeply damaged at the moment, Ms. Owens. I know you ’ ve been attacked and traumatized in a truer sense than many of our patients, but I need you to listen carefully. ” 
 
 Candice nods. 
 
 “ Do you remember me, Ms. Owens? Doctor Black? ” 
 
 Dysfunction. The question generates flickers of activity, all unconnected. 
 
 “ Part of the healing process for PTSD is a cover up, unfortunately. It ’ s crude, but it ’ s the state of the art. We tell you you ’ ve had a liver transplant, you accept our extended care, you convalesce and leave none the wiser. By design. ” 
 
 Watching herself watch herself, Candice grasps this at a delay. 
 
 “ You understand then that the chances of side effects are extremely high if we proceed? ” 
 
 Suddenly, inside. Insides. Onto, into, out of. A wave of nausea. Presence. 
 
 “ Do it. ” The effort of yelling sends a dull stabbing through her side. Drool runs down her cheek. 
 
 “ I have to strongly recommend … ” He sighs and removes his glasses, stands and wipes Candice ’ s mouth with a tissue. “ Look, I ran trials of this treatment. First time saves people's lives. They forget the kind of shit the mind just can ’ t handle: war, sexual assault, attempted murder. It works. ” He dabs Candice ’ s brow. Waves of sensation reverberate across her forehead, her face, tactile echoes. “ But the second time, we don ’ t know what happens. The brain just looses structure. People disappear into themselves, and they don ’ t come back. ” 
 
 “ Do it. ” 
 
 “ It ’ s not that simple, Ms. Owen ’ s. With the state you ’ re in, I can ’ t … ” 
 
 The room darkens around Candice. Her bed disappears, the walls turn pink and pulse. She is warm and weightless. Then the walls implode, accelerate at her and into her skull. She feels a cold sting rush from her head to her toes. 
 
 Sue crawls from between her knees to her chest and bites her shoulder. Candice ’ s toes uncurl. 
 
 “ They ’ ll kill us … ” 
 
 Sue ’ s eyes recede into her skull. 
 
 “ Sixty seven fifty nine, Candice. Follow my dreams. ” 
 
 Sue ’ s arms extend, boneless and thin, and wrap themselves around Candice ’ s throat. Candice ’ s own otherworldly arms reach for Sue ’ s head as they roll and release. Candice slides past nape and navel. Inside. Insides. 
 
 “ I never. I always. I never. ”
