Page 82 of Amnesia

Her arms fell to her sides, utter disappointment written on her face. “I don’t believe you,” she rasped. “Why else would people whisper about us in the aisles of the store? What other explanation is there for the strange comments some people make or the way they look at me like they’ve seen a ghost?”

I stepped forward; she stepped back.

“The lake isn’t the only thing keeping secrets. This entire town is keeping a secret, and that secret is me!” she burst out. “Don’t lie to me!”

“Why is it so easy to suppose I’m lying to you?” I exclaimed.

“Why else…?” She paced away, then back, looked down at the photo and then back up. “Why else would you act like you’re obsessed with me?”

“Because I am obsessed with you!” I burst out. The second I heard my own voice, my own words, horror stole over me. My eyes rounded so wide my skin stretched taut over my face.

Reluctantly, I looked up at Amnesia. Her wide-eyed reaction was exactly what I was hoping not to see, but I knew full well it was the only one I would get.

Gentling my voice, I tried to backtrack. “That came out wrong.” The husky tone in my voice christened me a liar. “Actually,” I confessed, “no, it didn’t. It’s true. Iamobsessed with you, Am. I have been since that night I found you floating in the lake.”

I knew it was unhealthy. Everyone looked at me with pity, with worry. Poor Eddie the victim who really wasn’t. I should have gotten over that night all those years ago. I should have learned to move on, but I couldn’t. I was haunted. Haunted by the lake. The memories… the what-ifs.

Everyone here in Lake Loch loved me, but I wasn’t an idiot. As much as I charmed them, when I walked away, sometimes they would whisper. Sometimes they would speculate.

He’s never been right since that night.

He’s a ticking time bomb.

Poor Forest and Claire. Their only son unbalanced.

He’s trying to assuage his guilt with her. He thinks he has a second chance.

“Why?” Amnesia whispered. The fact she backed away a few steps was something I didn’t miss. In fact, the newfound distance cut me like a knife. Not just the physical distance, but the mental barriers I felt her preparing to throw up.

I wouldn’t survive this twice.

Maybe the town had it right. Maybe I was unbalanced.

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” I told her, practically begging her to believe me. “I would hurt myself before I ever hurt you. I’d kill anyone who tried.”

Her breath rushed in. “Murder isn’t a joke.”

“I know that. I’m not joking. Given the choice between you and anyone else, I would choose you. Always.”

“You don’t even know me.” She was bewildered. I guess I understood that. But she didn’t know.

“Yes, I do.”

“Why, Eddie?” she cried, clutching the picture I wished she hadn’t found.

Why was I obsessed with her? Why did I claim to know her? Why had I been there since that night? Why, why, why?

Regret turned my voice into sandpaper. “I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” She was angry.

I couldn’t even blame her. I was angry, too. So angry it nearly drained me dry.

“Both.”

“Please, Eddie,” she pleaded, taking a step closer, holding the image out between us.

My entire body groaned as if it were trying to hold up the weight of the world. I felt my muscles straining, my resolve weakening.

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