hospital mattress, my mind whirling.
I had amnesia.
I’d spent the last four months of my life in a coma, but they weren’t the only months I was missing. My entire life before waking up here was gone. Vanished, as if it’d never happened. My memory was completely blank.
Chapter 3
Preslee
I hardly got any sleep that night, maybe because I had spent the past four months sleeping, but I knew that the real reason was because I couldn’t stop thinking about everything the doctor had told me. Was it true? If there was no identification in the car, how did they know the girl claiming to be my best friend was truly who she said she was? Why had no one else come forward to identify me? Didn’t I have any other family, or friends?
Then again, what would anybody have to gain by lying? If I’d been someone special, wouldn’t I have had more people looking for me? More people noticing that I was gone? Only one girl had come forward, and unless there was some seriously weird explanation about who I was and why I was here, there really wasn’t any reason to disbelieve what I’d been told.
According to the doctor, there was no guarantee that my memory would ever resurface, so rediscovering myself would have to be a learning curve. What other choice did I have? I had no memories to fall back on, and a sorry excuse for a clue in the form of a friend I wouldn’t be able to pick out of a lineup. She might be able to tell me some things, but there would be other parts of myself I might never know. I just couldn’t give up hope.
I flipped through the TV stations, eager to find an escape from the questions plaguing my every thought, but each channel showed unfamiliar faces and networks with acronyms that were indecipherable from the next. Did I have a favorite show or movie? Would I recognize it if I saw it? Doubtful.
I wanted to throw my hands up in fury and frustration, to let the tears come and feel sorry for myself, but that was as useless as wracking my brain for memories that were clearly blocked, maybe forever. The entire night was spent restless and wanting, beating myself up for coming up blank on the questions I’d tortured myself with. Who was I? What state was I in? Hell, what did I even look like? That last one was almost enough to get me to drag myself from bed and search for a mirror, but my lethargic muscles had other ideas.
By morning, I was exhausted and irritable. I groaned out loud when yet another nurse came in, flitting about, joyfully humming, so happy I could’ve strangled her. She was just the first. A parade of nurses bustled in and out of my room all morning, grating on my nerves as they asked useless questions and wrote all their little notes. I’d finally closed my eyes when the annoying squeak of the door alerted me to yet another visitor. I cracked one eye open, crossing my fingers they’d hurry up whatever they had to do so I could try to get some sleep.
“Preslee, you have a visitor,” a sugar-sweet voice oozed with a bit of a southern accent. The honey blonde nurse smiled wide, as if I was her favorite person in the world instead of just another pain-in-the-ass patient.
I sat up, ready to tell the nurse that I didn’t want to talk to anyone. A massive man, nearly six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders, and a lean build was already there. His neatly trimmed platinum blond hair and flawless tan masked his age, but judging from the lines on his face, he was probably pushing sixty. His green eyes crinkled deceptively as he flashed a pearly white smile my way, but there was no warmth in that gaze.
Whoever this man was, I didn’t trust him.
I crossed my arms over my chest and tried not to look intimidated.
“Miss Keats, my name is Quaid Fields, and I’m an attorney,” he boomed. He reached out to shake my hand, and I returned the gesture warily. “I heard about your tragic situation and thought I’d come speak with you. May I have a seat?”
As he took the chair next to my
I had amnesia.
I’d spent the last four months of my life in a coma, but they weren’t the only months I was missing. My entire life before waking up here was gone. Vanished, as if it’d never happened. My memory was completely blank.
Chapter 3
Preslee
I hardly got any sleep that night, maybe because I had spent the past four months sleeping, but I knew that the real reason was because I couldn’t stop thinking about everything the doctor had told me. Was it true? If there was no identification in the car, how did they know the girl claiming to be my best friend was truly who she said she was? Why had no one else come forward to identify me? Didn’t I have any other family, or friends?
Then again, what would anybody have to gain by lying? If I’d been someone special, wouldn’t I have had more people looking for me? More people noticing that I was gone? Only one girl had come forward, and unless there was some seriously weird explanation about who I was and why I was here, there really wasn’t any reason to disbelieve what I’d been told.
According to the doctor, there was no guarantee that my memory would ever resurface, so rediscovering myself would have to be a learning curve. What other choice did I have? I had no memories to fall back on, and a sorry excuse for a clue in the form of a friend I wouldn’t be able to pick out of a lineup. She might be able to tell me some things, but there would be other parts of myself I might never know. I just couldn’t give up hope.
I flipped through the TV stations, eager to find an escape from the questions plaguing my every thought, but each channel showed unfamiliar faces and networks with acronyms that were indecipherable from the next. Did I have a favorite show or movie? Would I recognize it if I saw it? Doubtful.
I wanted to throw my hands up in fury and frustration, to let the tears come and feel sorry for myself, but that was as useless as wracking my brain for memories that were clearly blocked, maybe forever. The entire night was spent restless and wanting, beating myself up for coming up blank on the questions I’d tortured myself with. Who was I? What state was I in? Hell, what did I even look like? That last one was almost enough to get me to drag myself from bed and search for a mirror, but my lethargic muscles had other ideas.
By morning, I was exhausted and irritable. I groaned out loud when yet another nurse came in, flitting about, joyfully humming, so happy I could’ve strangled her. She was just the first. A parade of nurses bustled in and out of my room all morning, grating on my nerves as they asked useless questions and wrote all their little notes. I’d finally closed my eyes when the annoying squeak of the door alerted me to yet another visitor. I cracked one eye open, crossing my fingers they’d hurry up whatever they had to do so I could try to get some sleep.
“Preslee, you have a visitor,” a sugar-sweet voice oozed with a bit of a southern accent. The honey blonde nurse smiled wide, as if I was her favorite person in the world instead of just another pain-in-the-ass patient.
I sat up, ready to tell the nurse that I didn’t want to talk to anyone. A massive man, nearly six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders, and a lean build was already there. His neatly trimmed platinum blond hair and flawless tan masked his age, but judging from the lines on his face, he was probably pushing sixty. His green eyes crinkled deceptively as he flashed a pearly white smile my way, but there was no warmth in that gaze.
Whoever this man was, I didn’t trust him.
I crossed my arms over my chest and tried not to look intimidated.
“Miss Keats, my name is Quaid Fields, and I’m an attorney,” he boomed. He reached out to shake my hand, and I returned the gesture warily. “I heard about your tragic situation and thought I’d come speak with you. May I have a seat?”
As he took the chair next to my
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