There comes time when everyone wants to become someone great, someone their friends and relatives would be honored to know. I say it's time to start building that groundwork.

My name is Rebecca, and I am a writer. See the side page about my fanfiction to find a good read.

Can't find it? REQUEST IT! :D Sometimes I'm picky, but I'm always open for suggestions on what my next fic endeavor should be.

Excerpt from Chapter 6 of Anamnesis

To prove that I’m writing something, here’s an excerpt from the story I’m currently working on. Very short - sorry.

Mike was lying on his bed, on top of the covers, and staring at the wall. He was still in his suit, but his shoes and jacket had been discarded – impressive considering Mike’s emotional state. With a soft intake of breath, Harvey walked over and set the glass on the side table.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"I’m scared," Mike answered quickly. He let out a harsh breath of a laugh and held up his hand. It was shaking. "See? I just keep imagining the car in my mind… I imagine guns, but I don’t know if they’re going off or not… and someone… or maybe it’s a bunch of someones… but they’re hitting me, yelling at me. I can’t stop it. And the… the terror – it’s like it surrounds me.”

"You were involved in a severely traumatic event, Mike. It’s alright to be scared," Harvey assured him. He moved around the bed and sat on the opposite side from Mike.

"I don’t like it," Mike said. He took a deep breath, like he was preparing for something huge, and then held it in.

The silence between them seemed infinite, and Harvey couldn’t think of anything to say. I know? That’s alright? No one likes it? They were all obvious responses that wouldn’t help Mike at all. Harvey didn’t like feeling useless or being out of words.


He looked down at Mike, who was still determinedly staring at the wall – probably to avoid eye contact. What Harvey wanted to do was touch Mike: check his head wound, check the temperature of his neck, drag his hand down Mike’s arm in an effort to comfort him. But Mike hadn’t responded well to touch earlier… and Harvey had never been a touchy kind of person.

"I have nightmares," Mike admitted and bit his lip. "All the time. Every night." 

"Nightmares?" Harvey asked. So Mike did remember them after he woke up. Did he call out in his sleep every time as well?

"Yeah. They’re about what happened to me. I used to think maybe they weren’t… Maybe I was just making what happened to me worse in my dreams than it was in real life, but then Rachel asked me about the car and the gun shot went off, and all the things I’ve heard or seen in my dreams came back to me. And I know that when I close my eyes, I’ll be right back in the darkness with that car." Mike took a shaky breath.


have you ever loved a character so much that you feel horribly for what they went through and want to take them home and wrap them in a blanket, set up a fireplace so they can be extra toasty, make everything comfy for them and make them soup or cookies until they feel better?