Page 76 of Amnesia

“They said they hoped I died.”

What the actual fuck? “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Then they came here, but I woke up and started screaming.” Am pulled back, wiped at her welted face, and took a breath. “This is the second time they’ve come for me in this place.”

“Who?” I asked not necessarily her, but the universe in general.Who’s doing this?

“They were mad I cut my hair.”

My face twisted. “What?”

“I know it sounds crazy. Please believe me.”

“I believe you,” I told her, pulling her back into my chest.

“Someone knows who I am. And I’m pretty sure it’s the same person from my dreams, the one who tried to drown me.”

“Do you have any idea who it is? Who it could be?” I queried. “Think, Amnesia.Think.”

“I have!” she said, a sob ripping from her throat. “Every time I try to think of something, it physically hurts me. I’m so tired, Eddie.”

“Okay,” I soothed, leaning back against the bed with her. “It doesn’t matter right now,” I told her. “I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I want to go home. I don’t want to stay here tonight.”

“They won’t let you go home like this. You’re going to have to calm down and breathe.”

“You’ll stay?” she asked.

“Cross my heart.” I vowed. A lump formed in my throat after I said those words.I’d been so sure… so, so sure.

Amnesia whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saving my life again.”

I stared at the wall, thoughts and emotions drifting through me like a boat lost at sea. She was mine.

And I wasn’t the only one who saved a life.

She saved mine.

The police had no new leads, and my lack of detail and description gave them nothing to go on.

How could I have seen this person practically five times and not have gotten one look for a description?

I didn’t have an answer.

Story of my life. I didn’t have an answer for pretty much anything.

But I knew I was allergic to shellfish.

The police said they would investigate. That meant they’d file all this weird shit with the rest of my weird shit and hope something came along that gave them an actual clue.

Dr. Beck told me I couldn’t go home. I told him too bad. I wasn’t staying in that hospital another night. All the time I spent there before was enough to last me an entire lifetime.

After another breathing treatment, a vitals check, and a bunch of disapproving looks and lots of notes on his clipboard, Dr. Beck let me go. He gave me strict instructions to rest, as if he thought I were going to go run a marathon or swim the lake.

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