His Forgotten Obsession

Chapter 1

LIANA'S POV

I opened my eyes to the ringing on a monitor. It was too light, far too light for my weak eyes to accept the room's illumination, so I shut my eyes again abruptly. I opened them once more, this time being careful; white ceiling.

I attempted to move my arms to sit up, but they were jelly.

An IV line was strapped to my wrist, and something was attached to my finger.

I was experiencing a headache. My tongue was dry. None of anything made sense.

Where was I?

The door swung open, and I viewed a lady in scrubs walk over towards me. She was smiling gently.

"You're awake," she said softly. "I'll get the doctor."

I closed my eyes once more and must have slept, because I awoke to find myself opening them once more to gaze at a face which was a bit blurry. I blinked, and it was a man with spectacles and a white robe.

"How do you feel, Miss?" he asked.

I struggled to get out one word. "Thirsty."

Was that how I sounded? If so, it didn't sound like mine.

It was cracked due to not having been used.

He filled a water glass and helped me sit so I could drink some. He held it to my lips, because my hands trembled so much, I might have spilled the whole thing.

I tried to shift again, and I winced doing so. There was a burning pain in my head that was giving me problems. I touched my head with a hand that was reaching upwards, it was wrapped in gauze.

"Shh…" The glass man whispered, "Don't move about so much. Miss, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Um…" I tried, "Three."

"Miss, do you remember what occurred to you?"

I slowly shook my head.

"Where…" I started, "Where am I?"

"You're in a hospital. You seemed to have been in an accident. So, you don't remember what happened?" The man with glasses and the white coat I now assumed was a doctor asked again.

An accident?

"An accident…" I repeated.

Why was nothing happening in my brain?

My head was thudding so persistently and creating a headache, I was afraid it was going to open up.

"I don't. "I don't know. I shook my head. "I don't remember anything."

"Okay. "That's okay." He scribbled some notes on his chart. "You were in an accident. You've been out for about a month."

A month?

He nodded. He must have seen me getting anxious because he smiled reassuringly, "Just take it easy." He said in a gentle voice. "We didn't find any ID on you," he went on. "No phone, no money. The police couldn't identify you."

"What kind of accident?"

He stopped. My best guess would be hit-and-run. You were found alongside the road unconscious. You had a serious head injury, some broken ribs and bleeding internally as well. You've had two surgeries."

I tried to breathe, to remember. Nothing. My mind was blank. I couldn't recall anything.

"I… I can't…

"Don't push it," he said softly. "Your savior that day is in town and I would like to meet you." He's been here every day."

Before I had a chance to say anything, the doctor nodded to the nurse, and she understood and left. A few minutes later, she came back with a good-looking, tall guy.

Our eyes locked.

The guy smiled tightly.

"I'm the one who picked you up," he said, in the introduction. You were on the roadside and bleeding. I pulled over and called for help."

I scrutinized this stranger from head to toe, but I couldn't seem to remember ever having met him.

"Have we met…

"He shrugged once. "No. "But I couldn't abandon you there," he breathed. "I'm glad you're in better health now." He said, "I'm Matteo. And are you…?"

I blinked at him.

Was he requesting my name?

What was my name anyway?

My head pounded again.

He looked at the doctor, while the doctor checked me out.

"I don't know. "I don't know my name," I finally said.

The tall, handsome man's smile failed, and the doctor let out a breath.

I will refer your case to a neurologist and trauma counselor. Someone who can take you through this step by step. You may have amnesia."

The man, Matteo, began staring at me in shock, "Loss of memory?"

The doctor nodded. "Excuse me, one moment please."

Matteo stood there, looking at me like I was some piece of artwork at an exhibit.

He just kept staring at me bizarrely, that I felt compelled to be making conversation.

"Ficou aqui… o tempo todo?"

"Todo dia."

I rolled away from him to the side.

It was crazy.

Why would a stranger do that?

"You were alone. So, I stayed."

I didn't have a clue what to reply to.

"Mr. Arden?" the doctor continued, and Matteo moved towards him.

"This is Dr. Camille," he introduced, nodding to the woman behind him. He moved towards me then, "She'll be taking care of your rehabilitation."

"Hello," Dr. Camille spoke quietly. She had very peaceful eyes, like a person you could trust.

She sat on the end of my bed. "I know you're confused."

She grasped my hand gently, "I know you don't remember anything, and it might be too much for you to take in at once."

I nodded.

She grinned again, "Yeah, I understand." She put her hand over mine gently, and I couldn't resist looking at her hand on mine. "Your signs show that you have amnesia. In your case, we think it's temporary and trauma-induced. But don't worry, I'm here to help you, until you regain the memory you lost."

I nodded slowly.

She put a file on the bedside table beside her. "For now, we are focusing on healing, sleeping, eating, breathing. Everything else waits."

Her tone was soft but firm. It was useful.

"You've been out of it for a month," she told me. "But you're safe now."

Safe.

I looked over at the shut door. Matteo… Mr. Arden was standing at the door now.

Safe didn't feel like the right word.

"What happens next?" I asked.

Dr. Camille turned to the doctor. "That's your decision. You're medically sound to be discharged in a couple of days. But… no memory, no phone numbers to call, no family and no address, the hospital will have to discharge you to a care facility. That's policy."

"You mean… a psych ward."

She smiled.

"It's not as bad, to be honest," she whispered. "But it can feel lonely."

Matteo jumped in then, "You don't have to go."

I looked at him.

"You can stay with me," he went on. "Until you get your head together."

"What?"

"It's temporary," he said. "Someplace to get well." "You'll have your own room, a doctor to see when you need to see one, whatever."

"I don't even know you."

"I'm not asking you to," he said. "But it's better than waking up in a psych ward alone"

I glanced over at Dr. Camille, who did not protest.

She may have trusted him.

Or she may just have thought that I didn't have a choice.

I shook my hands again. I did not like this; any of it. But the threat of being stuck in a freezing room filled me with the desire to go with this stranger.

"Okay," I whispered.

His harsh face eventually eased somewhat. Then he nodded, "I'll get the car around, so you can take a ride with m

e when you're ready."

As he exited, I sighed.

By myself, I looked down at the name card on my bed.

There was someone's name on it.

Just a tag in black letters: "Jane Doe.”