by Rachel Green
She stared at me, a perplexed look on her face, as if she expected me to remember her. I didn’t of course. I have perfect memory control and have been deleting selected memories long before I ever realised what I was doing. Certainly long before I ever met her... whoever she is. What does she mean, we lived together for five years? I’d remember someone that important to me, wouldn’t I?
Rachel Green, whose full catalog is here, is an English woman who spends far too much time writing about demons.