THE TRUTH THEY TRIED TO BURY
1240 Words
Sleep refused to come.
I lay still on the stiff hospital bed, my back facing the wall, heart racing as Olivia’s whispered words replayed over and over in my mind:
“She wasn’t supposed to survive… If Donald finds out what his mother did…”
My palms grew cold.
Someone wanted me gone.
His mother.
Why?
Why would a woman I didn’t even remember want to hurt me? Why would Olivia… my friend… hide that from me?
A dull ache throbbed behind my forehead again, the same headache that came whenever I tried to remember. But the more I tried to piece things together, the more it felt like my memories were right there—just behind a locked door.
And someone didn’t want that door opened.
I swallowed hard, forcing my breathing to stay even as the door opened quietly.
Olivia stepped inside again.
She moved toward me softly, thinking I was asleep. She sat at the chair beside my bed, exhaling shakily.
“Eve…” she whispered, voice cracking. “Please don’t remember… please.”
My heart sank. Tears stung the back of my eyes, but I kept still.
Why would she say that?
Why would my friend—my best friend—want me to stay in the dark?
I waited until she left, then slowly turned, staring at the empty doorway. A growing fear mixed with determination.
Something dangerous happened that night.
And I needed to know what.
---
Morning
Bright, too bright sunlight flooded the room. I pressed a hand to my eyes as someone entered.
The moment he spoke, I knew it was him.
“Morning, Evelyn.”
Donald.
I turned, and for the first time since waking up, I felt… safe. Even with my memory shattered, his presence grounded me in a way that didn’t need explanation.
“You okay?” he asked softly, pulling a chair closer.
I hesitated. Should I tell him what I heard? His mother being involved? Olivia hiding things?
Something inside me whispered no.
Not yet.
Not until I had actual answers.
“I’m okay,” I lied with a small nod.
He studied my face, eyes full of concern. “You look tired.”
I looked away. “There’s just… too much to process.”
He nodded slowly. “I understand. But you’re not alone. I’m here.”
My throat tightened. Why did those words feel so familiar?
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace.
A simple silver chain with a tiny heart-shaped pendant.
“This was yours,” he said gently. “You wore it every day.”
My fingers tingled as he placed it in my hand.
A sudden flash—
A warm laugh.
Donald standing behind me, clasping the necklace around my neck.
Him saying, “This means you’re mine, okay? Don’t run away from me again.”
Me blushing, hitting his shoulder playfully.
My breath caught.
I almost dropped the necklace.
“I remember… something,” I whispered.
Donald’s eyes widened, hope flickering inside them like a flame. “You do?”
I nodded slowly. “Not everything. Just a tiny piece.”
“That’s enough,” he said with a soft smile. “It’ll come back little by little.”
But his smile faded a bit as he added, “Evelyn… I need to tell you something.”
My heart tightened. “What is it?”
He looked down, rubbing his thumb against his palm nervously. “My mother… she wasn’t always nice to you.”
Fear shot through me.
He continued quietly, “But I promise—I won’t let anything hurt you again. Not even her.”
My chest tightened.
He didn’t know how true that sentence was.
---
Afternoon
Olivia came in with food, smiling like nothing was wrong.
“Eve, I brought you jollof—your favourite.”
For a moment I stared at her, wondering how many lies sat behind that smile.
But I played along.
“Thank you,” I said, forcing a small smile.
Donald stood, giving Olivia a stiff nod before leaving to take a call.
The moment he left, the atmosphere changed. Olivia set the food down and turned toward me.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked.
“Mm-hmm.”
She reached to adjust my pillow, but I instinctively flinched.
Her hand froze. “Eve… what’s wrong?”
I forced myself to relax. “Nothing. I’m just… sensitive.”
She sat down, her shoulders slumping as if weighed down by something invisible.
“I’m scared, Evelyn,” she whispered.
I blinked. “…Scared of what?”
“Scared of losing you,” she said, voice trembling. “Scared that when you remember everything, you’ll hate me.”
That sentence hit me hard.
“Olivia… why would I hate you?”
She looked away immediately. “Forget it. Eat, please.”
I watched her carefully. She wasn’t just nervous. She was terrified.
That meant whatever happened the night of my accident wasn’t innocent.
Something dark happened.
And she knew exactly what it was.
---
Evening
Donald came back with discharge papers.
“You’re being released tomorrow,” he said with a small smile. “The doctor said staying at home will help your brain recover faster.”
“Where… where will I stay?” I asked quietly.
“With me,” he answered without hesitation.
Olivia stiffened instantly. “That’s not a good idea. She needs stability, not—”
“I am her stability,” Donald said firmly.
The room grew heavy. I watched them, feeling tension crackle like static.
Olivia crossed her arms. “Your house is the last place she needs.”
“And why is that, Olivia?” Donald said sharply, eyes narrowing.
Olivia opened her mouth, then closed it.
Silence.
And in that silence, I finally saw it—
Fear.
Guilt.
Secrets.
Donald didn’t understand why she was acting strange.
But I did.
I remembered her whisper:
“If Donald finds out what his mother did—everything will scatter.”
Everything was connected.
His mother.
Olivia.
My accident.
My memory loss.
Something ugly tied them all together.
I needed answers.
And I would get them.
---
That night
Donald stepped outside to make another call, and Olivia went home. A nurse dimmed the light, and I pretended to sleep.
But my mind was racing.
If someone tried to get rid of me, they would try again once they knew I was remembering things.
I had to stay alert.
The hallway outside was quiet—until footsteps approached.
Slow, heavy… deliberate.
The door creaked open.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
A soft voice whispered:
“Why aren’t you dead yet?”
My heart stopped.
The voice wasn’t Olivia’s.
It wasn’t a nurse.
It was a woman.
Older.
Cold.
And familiar.
She stepped closer, her shadow falling over me.
“You should have stayed out of my son’s life. You were warned.”
My breathing quickened.
Donald’s mother.
I felt her lean close, her breath cold against my ear.
“If you remember anything… I will finish what I started.”
She stepped back, heels clicking softly as she walked out.
When the door closed, I opened my eyes.
Tears slid down my face… but not from fear.
From anger.
Because now I knew the truth:
I wasn’t sick.
I wasn’t unlucky.
I wasn’t fragile.
I was almost murdered.
And the war had just begun.
- Writer
