Page 12 of Bratva Jewels Box Set
“Mateo, twenty-eight, Scorpio. I like long walks on the beach and beer,” I say with a chuckle, which makes her smile as well.
“And your name?” she asks, looking over at Tomas.
“I’m Tomas. Thirty and a workaholic.”
“He’s also a Cancer,” I add.
Tomas rolls his eyes at me.
“Well, thank you for saving me, Tomas and Mateo.” Her eyes dip to her clasped hands again.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“I don’t know,” she whispers.
We wait for her to continue with her words.
“What happened to me must be bad if my brain wants to hide it away and forget about it. I’m worried about what is going to happen when it comes back. I’m worried about what happens if it doesn’t. What if I never remember who I am? Will I go on and live a normal life ever again?”
“The most important thing is that you get better, everything else will work itself out,” I tell her.
“You truly think so?”
“Yeah, I do.”
She looks slightly relieved.
“Not to burst your bubble, but the police will want to speak with you about what happened, now you are awake.”
She tenses at Tomas’s words.
Tomas and I look at each other. “You don’t have to give a statement yet, not until you are feeling up to it,” he explains just as his phone rings, and he excuses himself from the room.
The tears flow down her cheeks. “I can’t remember what happened.”
I move closer to the bed and reach out and take her hand. This makes her flinch, but she relaxes and lets me hold her hand after a little while.
“I’m sure it will return, but maybe … maybe it might be good if it doesn’t.”
She looks down, her tears slowing. “Is my face disfigured?”
I shake my head. “You don’t look good, but you are definitely not hideous.”
She gives me a weak smile. “I can’t thank you enough for saving me. Few would have.”
I squeeze her hand in mine. “You have nothing to thank me for. It was the right thing to do. Just relax, heal, and get better. The world will still be here when you are ready.”
“What happens if the world outside is still looking for me?” she asks, those blue eyes wide with fear.
“We have security stationed around the hospital. They will also have to get past Tomas and me to get to you, and that will never happen,” I try to reassure her.
“You two are my guardian angels.”
“There’s nothing angelic about me,” I joke, giving her a wink which makes her laugh.
I’ve spent the past three days with the mystery woman. She’s funny, intelligent, and underneath the bruises, beautiful. Our friend Enrique came to take her statement about the attack; he was there the night we found her, arriving on the scene after the ambulance. She couldn’t give him anything solid and became frustrated with his questions as she could only remember snippets of her life, nothing concrete. It’s like a fuzzy movie playing in her head. She hates the fact that she can’t remember her name. And I don’t blame her. I would hate to know that I’d forgotten all about Tomas. The doctor advises that she has post-traumatic amnesia, maybe even repressed memory loss, possibly because of the brain trauma she received or from psychological trauma prior to the accident.
It scares me that this amazing girl has gone through something so horrific that her mind has shut it out. In all honesty, I don’t want her to remember anything. I don’t want her to have to relive whatever happened to her.
