I mean, come on, first I don’t remember my name, then someone calls me a monster, and that same someone turns out to be my freaking fiancé?

A girl can only take so many shocks all at once.

“Miss Ellis.” The doctor smiles in that polite but distant way. “How do you feel?”

“In pain?” I don’t know why it comes out as a question.

I swear Mr. Asshole’s lips twitch. In amusement or in sadism, I don’t know.

Dr. Anderson and the nurse do a thorough examination, including checking my pulse and my temperature. He also puts that light thingy in my eye. Now I know who was bothering me in my sleep.

“Do you remember your name?” he asks.

“It’s…” The name hovers at the tip of my tongue, but it’s like I can’t reach it. “I d-don’t know.”

Sure, I heard the name Reina Ellis before and after I regained consciousness, but I don’t relate to that name.

That name is wrong.

So I choose not to say it.

The doctor scribbles something in his notepad and continues asking me about what year it is, what country we’re in, what state, who the president is, etc.

I answer all of them in a beat. I count to twenty. I recite the alphabet.

When he asks me again about my name and my age, I freeze.

The entire time, the monster who called me a monster doesn’t let go of my hand. His presence is an unyielding, dark entity, all-powerful and non-negotiable. The stabbing pain at the back of my head pales in comparison to how constant he is.

Dr. Anderson nods as he goes through a pad in his hand. “We thought we’d lose you to the vegetative state, Miss Ellis. You’re lucky.”

Lucky? Is he blind? Can’t he see the looming presence by my side? It’s like he’s waiting for the doctor and the nurse to leave so he can pounce on me.

Cut me open.

Eat me alive.

I try meeting the nurse’s gaze and asking her for help, but I don’t get the chance.

Or more like, the asshole blocks my communication. Whenever I try to catch her eye, he tightens his hold on my hand, making me wince.

Motherfucker.

“What…what happened to me?” I finally ask the question that’s been playing in my mind since I opened my eyes.

“Blunt-force trauma to the head.” Dr. Anderson’s brows soften. “A hunter found you in the forest near the edge of town.”

My nose scrunches. “What was I doing in the forest?”

“That’s what I want to know, Reina.” Those deep green eyes are so close I can feel the malice rolling off my skin and seeping into my bones. “What were you doing there? Were you thinking about leaving Blackwood?”

I try to pull my hand from his, but he grips me harder, disallowing my release. “I…I don’t remember.”

Then it dawns on me. I don’t remember.

And it’s not only about why I’m at the hospital or the asshole holding my hand or even my name.

It’s everything combined. I have no recollection of my entire life prior to waking up here.

Oh, God. Oh, no.

Is this some sort of a telenovela?

Dr. Anderson nods. “Short-term amnesia is common in such cases. Now that the swelling has gone down, the memories should trickle in eventually.”

“Swelling?” My eyes widen.

“Yes.” The doctor flips through his file. “When you first arrived, there was swelling caused by blunt-force trauma. It’s the cause of your two-day coma, but we’ve been monitoring it and gradually reducing it, and we’ve succeeded. As I said, you’re young, and short-term amnesia isn’t uncommon.”

“You…you don’t understand,” I croak. “I don’t remember anything about myself.”

Dr. Anderson nods with thoughtfulness. “All tests came back with no problems, but we’ll run one more MRI and CT scan to make sure. You have basic common knowledge, and everything else will trickle in.”

“What if it doesn’t?” I ask, voice spooked as if I were out in a dark winter night.

“Then it’ll be a case of retrograde amnesia.”

“And I can’t be cured of that?”

“The brain is a complex organ, Miss Ellis. We still know so little about how it works. Unfortunately, there’s still no cure for amnesia, but if you return to your normal life and surround yourself with friends, family, and familiar items, especially scents, it might help in regaining your memories.”

Might.

As in even the doctor doesn’t know how the hell I go back to normal.

But then again, what is normal?

Surely it doesn’t include the asshole holding my hand or the pain pulsing at the back of my head.

“Your guardian should be here soon, but it’s better if you rest,” Dr. Anderson says before he leaves.

I have a guardian, but I’m in college. How does that work exactly?

“How…how old am I?” I ask the nurse.

“Twenty-one, remember, Rei?” the asshole on my right says with a sickening smile that doesn’t even come close to reaching his eyes.

It’s fake.

He’s fake.

There’s nothing genuine about him. I must’ve been out of my damn mind when I accepted his proposal.

That is if he ever proposed in the first place. For some reason, I think I just ended up with him and that’s it.

That’s even scarier.

“No, I don’t remember,” I hiss. “Have you heard a word I’ve said? I just told the doctor I don’t remember my life.”

He raises one thick, perfect eyebrow. “Huh.”

Just one word. Huh. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

“You’re just distressed, Miss Ellis.” The nurse smiles down at him with so much affection, like he’s her son or something. “Asher has never left your side since you were admitted. He’s been so sweet.”

Asher.

Asher…

The name doesn’t ring a bell, but the fact he’s been by my side… I watch him again, trying to get a different feel for him.

No. Nothing.

He’s just the nightmare voice and the one who called me a monster.

Those sinister eyes meet mine as he speaks to the nurse with a disgusting friendliness. “She’s the only one I have. Isn’t that right, Rei?”

Rei.

Fucking Rei?

He doesn’t get to give me a nickname after he called me a monster. How can he say them both and sound so convincing and…frightening?

He doesn’t get to act like the perfect human being in front of other people when I can sense him plotting my demise.

The nurse almost swoons at his words.

My shoulder blades knot together as a strangling fear closes my throat.

Wrong. Everything is so freaking wrong.

The nurse smiles as she injects my IV with something. “You’re a lucky girl, Reina.”

Would everyone stop saying that? How can she not see the threat looming over me like damnation? It’s pouring onto my skin like acid.

And for crying out loud, would everyone stop calling me Reina? That’s not my name.

But again, if I don’t remember my name, what makes me so sure it isn’t Reina?

I grab the nurse’s hand as she retreats. This is the only chance I’ll get to put a stop to this, and I won’t miss it for the world.