Page 4 of Dream Girl
“We’ll try again later. A grid is down, so that’s probably it.” The officer waved him off, and we went back to the questions.
A little later, a woman in a lab coat strode in.
“I’m going to take a couple of blood tests. Quick and easy,” she told me. Something about her was commanding. Like if she wasn’t in charge, she was still someone.
“Um, okay.” Blood tests? At a police station? But again, I didn’t see any reason not to cooperate. If anything, I was glad everyone was going to so much trouble to help me, and I felt safe here.
She had two tiny pin prick things and stuck my finger with them. It didn’t hurt, it wasn’t even like being pricked on a thorn. I wasn’t sure what she was doing, but it was simple, easy, and painless. My kind of medicine.
“You did such a great job.” One, she put back into a vial, and the other one turned black. Her brow furrowed at the color. “Huh. It must be a bad test.” She put it in a tiny medical waste bag and left.
“You’re doing great. Let’s talk about you a little. You don’t remember your name, right, what about your birth date?” the officer asked, returning his attention to me after she left.
“Oh, I remember that.” There it was. I gave it to him. Why I remembered that and not my name, I didn’t know. The human mind was weird.
“You’re sure?” His eyebrows rose.
“Of course. I’m twenty-seven.” Ooh, I remembered something. “It seems like I haven’t forgotten everything. Though what I can and can’t remember is strange.”
“The brainisfunny like that.” He asked me a bunch of other questions. My address, which I couldn’t remember. Names of friends, some of which I could recall, employer, which I couldn’t, occupation…
“I’m a…” I closed my eyes again.Think, brain, think.“I think I’m a mathematician.” That sounded mostly right.
He asked me more questions. But it seemed like even when I could remember my answers weren’t the ones he was looking for, which made my belly churn. Wrong answers led to bad places.
“What’s your designation?” the officer asked. “Can you remember? That’s going to help determine what resources we can use to help you.”
Designation? “Um, I’m a heterosexual cisgender female.”
He blinked. My belly sank. That wasn’t the answer he wanted. My belly clenched in fear. What was he asking? Whatever it was, I didn't think I had one.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Can you remember anyone else we could call to get you? A roommate? Sibling? Friend? Significant other? Alpha?” He stared at my neck, then his gaze flickered to my hands.
I frowned. “Alpha?”
“Yes, or your pack? Your family?” he suggested. “Anyone?”
Pack?Pack of what?
He leaned forward. “If they’re the ones that hurt you, you don’t have to go back to them. I promise. We’re just trying to figure out who you are so we can get you somewhere safe.”
“I don’t think I talk to my family. I…” I chewed on my lower lip. “Yeah. I think that my mother’s gone.” I could remember that much, but not specifics like her name or what she looked like. Or how she died. But I knew our relationship wasn’t good.
“I’m sorry to hear that, but think–anything could be helpful,” he prodded.
“I… I knew an alpha once. But he didn’t hurt me. He’d never hurt me,” I blurted as little bubbles in my brain burst withfleeting memories. A face. A laugh. Us sitting on the swings. Him holding me.
He’d been my best friend… and so much more.
“Do you remember his name?”
Another bubble popped, revealing a hint of memory. “His name’s Fade. But…”
The next memory was like a punch in the stomach, and I flinched.
“He’s not real.” My chest shuddered at the memories of that painful lesson. “Alphas aren’t real. He was just a dream.” Tears pricked my eyes.
I wished he’d been real. Once I even thought he was.
