Page 15 of The Devil In Disguise

She claps her hands together enthusiastically. “Perfect. We have been trying to find an emergency contact for her, but she must have lost her identification in the accident. Would you mind stepping outside with me for a moment so we can discuss some things?” She rambles then looks at me expectantly.

I do mind, actually.

“Sure, no problem,” I say as I move to follow her out the door.

I hate hospitals.

The nurse looks over her clipboard briefly and lets out a soft sigh. “Jane suffered from—"

“Amaris.”

“Excuse me?” She looks at me puzzled and I’m losing my patience.

“Her name is Amaris.”

“Right, sorry. Amaris suffered from what we call PTA, or post-traumatic amnesia, after the accident. That girl has some real fight in her. Police say it was a hit-and-run, but those motorcycles can be so dangerous. It’s a miracle she isn’t in worse conditions!” She waves her free hand around incredulously. “Anyway, do you happen to know who her emergency contact is or a number for her parents? I didn’t see a ring, so I assume she isn’t married?”

Someone had too much coffee this morning. She’s talking so fast I can hardly keep up.

“Not married, but I am her emergency contact.”

“Oh, even better. Well, like I said, Amaris has PTA so she won’t be able to remember certain memories or people. each case is unique to each individual. It might also be hard for her to learn new things or remember new information. With that being said, if you take her to familiar environments or around close family and friends, it can help trigger her lost memories. But don’t force too much on her at once. PTA can last anywhere from a few weeks to months, or in some cases, the symptoms can be permanent.”

She stops talking to make sure I’m listening, so I nod for her to continue. “We had to put her in a medically induced coma, but she already woke up from it earlier. She has been in and out of sleep. You can wait for her to wake up again or I can try to tap her awake for you if you’d like to try talking to her? She won’t talk to any of us.”

I’m still trying to process what she told me. Amaris has amnesia, but how much of her memory did she lose? For all I know, when I walk in the room she’ll remember exactly what happened and blow everything up. But I would be lying if I said this new development didn’t pique my interest.

“Let me make a call, then I’ll go in there,” I say to the waiting nurse.

“No problem, take your time. I’m going to check her vitals while you do that.”

This chick has impeccable timing. I turn and go somewhere private. Might as well actually update Renato since I have to wait on her to leave anyway.

“What is it? Don’t tell me you fucked this up for me, Kylo. We have been waiting eleven years for this moment.”

Hello to you, too, jackass. “I am just updating you on new information, but I am still fully prepared to take her out when I hang up this phone.”

“Well, what did you find out?”

“She didn’t die from the crash, but she has amnesia. I don’t know what she can or can’t remember or how long it will be until she gets her memory back, if ever, but I—”

Before I finish my thought, he talks over me. “Oh, this is just too good to be true. Change of plans, you are to discharge her today and bring her here to the compound. You can throw her in the spare building over in the back. I have an idea.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Get it done.” With that, he cuts the call, leaving me frozen in place for longer than I intend to be.

Chapter 8

I never want to leave this town, it’s so vibrant and beautiful. I have been in the meadow all day with my friend, Estelle, talking about the same favorite books we have in common or making out shapes from the passing clouds. We walked far enough to find berry bushes, so we decided to pick some and have a picnic in the grass by the clear river. The lotus flowers floating in the river wash me with a sense of tranquility.

Even the flowers out here smell so fresh and aromatic. The environment surrounds me with a deep sense of tranquility. Estelle tells me about her daughter and she listens without judgment as I explain why I don’t want children.

“There are so many reasons, I can’t name them all if I tried. I love children, but I genuinely don’t think motherhood would be for me,” I tell her.

“Those were all very valid reasons on their own. I think you should live your life in a way that will make you happy at the end of it. You get one life. Be happy, make mistakes, explore as much as you can.” She speaks so passionately, her energy is seeping into me. Soon, I’m imagining different places to travel to, and cultures to learn, and experiences to live through.

“Do you think you are living your life in a way that will make you happy at the end of the line?” I ask her.

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