Page 62 of The Tattoo Artist

“She has a concussion and is suffering from memory loss,” Ares replies, his eyes mirroring the anguish he carried. “She doesn’t remember me.”

As his words sank in, my heart shattered into a million pieces.

He looked at me in such a way.

As if it were I with the concussion...

As if he was trying to make me remember?

No.

No.

No.

No.

No.

My eyes slowly shift to the necklace around my neck, before slowly dragging up to the back of his hand. I shake my head, tears threating to spill out of my eyes as I take a deep breath in.

“Please…don’t tell me…”

“Alexandra,” he said, his voice laden with regret.

I slowly stood up, feeling the ground beneath me becoming unsteady. The pieces of the puzzle fit together, revealing a truth I never wanted to face. I walk over to my sketchbook, flicking through the pages before noticing the butterflies all over one.

“Where is she?” I asked, my voice trembling with denial, slowly turning my head to him.

Ares met my gaze, confirming my worst fear.

“No...no, it can’t be,” I mutter. “I would have known!”

“I’m sorry, Alexandra,” Ares said, his own pain evident.

My heart felt like it was breaking all over again, and I took a step back, needing to process everything.

The girl he spoke of, the one who suffered memory loss, was me.

I couldn’t comprehend how my own memories had become so fractured and distant, leaving me in a state of confusion and vulnerability. The tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring my vision as Ares tried to approach me with concern etched on his face. I raised my hand, signalling him to stop.

signalling him to stop.

“Stop! Don’t come near me...” My voice quivered with emotion, and I struggled to compose myself.

“Alex-”

“Get out.”

“Alexandra, please-” Ares pleaded, reaching out for me.

“I said get out! Leave! Now!” I spoke, my heart…it aches, unable to bear the weight of his revelations.

Ares took a step back, his expression heavy with remorse. “I’m sorry, Angel. I never wanted you to find out like this.”

“Just go,” I choke out, my heart torn between wanting him close and needing space to process everything. The moment the balcony doors closed, I crumbled to my knees.

The pain in my chest was suffocating, as if someone were tearing my heart apart piece by piece. I hugged myself tightly, trying to hold the broken fragments together, but it was futile.

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