[Allison opens her mouth, then closes it, releasing Lydia's hand to dig the heels of her own into her eyes. It's all gone again, but the jacket is still there. Just like the pen, it's lodged in her brain now and she can't get it out.
The pen. The jacket...the name. She has no idea why, but it's weaving its way through every fiber of her being, taking root in her brainstem and dragging things out of her heart, her soul that she never knew were there.
Only...Lydia told her.
She's Allison's best friend.
Dropping her hands, she turns to face Lydia, eyes filled with confusion.]
Your name is Lydia Martin. I've never met you, you never told me, and I know your name. Lyds--how do I know your name?