The woman in my memory

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

THE WOMAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN

“Don't trust your mother.”

The words remained in my head even after the voice disappeared.

I couldn't move.

The hospital room was completely dark.

“Mom?”

No answer.

“Adrian?”

Nothing.

I reached for the emergency button beside my bed, but before I could press it, the lights flickered back on.

My mother was standing beside the door.

Adrian was gone.

I looked at her.

“Where did he go?”

She didn't answer.

“Mom?”

She slowly turned toward me.

“Who were you talking to?”

I frowned.

“You heard her.”

“Heard who?”

“The woman.”

My mother's face remained strangely calm.

“What woman?”

I stared at her.

“The woman who said not to trust you.”

She swallowed.

“There was nobody here.”

“Yes, there was.”

“No.”

Her voice was firmer this time.

“You're confused.”

I hated that word.

Everyone kept using it whenever I got too close to the truth.

I looked around the room.

“Where's Adrian?”

“He went to find the doctor.”

“Why?”

“Because you need help.”

I laughed.

“You're all saying that.”

My mother stared at me.

“What?”

“You keep telling me I'm confused. That I'm remembering things incorrectly. But every time I ask a question, you become afraid.”

She didn't respond.

I pushed the blanket away.

“I want to leave.”

“You can't.”

“Why?”

“The doctor hasn't discharged you.”

“I'll discharge myself.”

She stepped in front of the door.

“Liyana.”

“What?”

“You need to stay here.”

“Why?”

She looked at me.

“Because you're not safe outside.”

I froze.

“From who?”

She said nothing.

“Who am I supposed to be afraid of?”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“You don't know.”

“Then tell me.”

She shook her head.

“I can't.”

“Then I'll find out myself.”

I walked toward the bathroom.

My mother watched me.

I closed the door.

Locked it.

Then I finally allowed myself to breathe.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

The woman looking back at me was familiar.

But something felt wrong.

I touched my face.

My cheek.

My eyes.

My lips.

Then I noticed something.

A faint scar beneath my left ear.

I touched it.

Pain shot through my head.

A flash.

A bedroom.

A mirror.

A girl standing behind me.

Same face.

Same eyes.

Same scar.

She was crying.

I heard myself say:

“I'm sorry, Elena.”

I gasped.

The vision disappeared.

I grabbed the sink.

“Elena.”

My heart was racing.

Why had I apologized?

What had I done?

I looked at my reflection again.

Then I noticed something written in tiny letters on the mirror.

I hadn't seen it before.

Three words.

ROOM 314.

I stared at them.

Room 314.

I wiped the mirror.

The writing remained.

It wasn't written on the glass.

It was scratched into it.

Someone had deliberately left it there.

I unlocked the bathroom door.

My mother was still standing outside.

“I'm tired,” I said.

She looked relieved.

“Then sleep.”

I climbed back into bed.

I closed my eyes.

And pretended to sleep.

---

Twenty minutes later, my mother's footsteps disappeared.

I waited.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Then I quietly climbed out of bed.

I grabbed my hospital gown around my waist and slipped into the corridor.

Nobody noticed me.

The hospital was strangely quiet.

I followed the signs.

300...

301...

302...

303...

My heart pounded harder.

304...

305...

306...

Then—

314.

The door was slightly open.

I pushed it.

Inside was darkness.

No patient.

No machines.

Just an empty room.

I stepped inside.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

I searched the room.

Nothing.

Then I noticed something beneath the bed.

A small black suitcase.

I pulled it out.

It was locked.

I searched the room again.

There was a key taped beneath the bedside table.

My hands trembled as I unlocked the suitcase.

Inside were clothes.

A wallet.

A passport.

And dozens of photographs.

I picked up the passport first.

My breath caught.

The photograph was mine.

But the name wasn't.

ELENA MKHIZE.

Date of birth:

October 23.

I stared at it.

My birthday.

I opened the wallet.

There was an identity card.

Elena Mkhize.

Same birthday.

Same parents.

Same photograph.

Same face.

I dropped it.

“No...”

I picked up another photograph.

It showed two little girls.

Me.

And Elena.

On the back was a date.

SEVEN YEARS AGO.

Underneath it were four words:

ONE OF THEM DIED.

I swallowed.

Then I noticed something behind the photograph.

A hospital bracelet.

I picked it up.

There was a name printed on it.

LIYANA MKHIZE.

And a date.

Three days ago.

My hands went cold.

Elena had been wearing a bracelet with my name on it.

I heard footsteps outside.

I shoved everything back into the suitcase.

The door handle moved.

I hid behind the curtain.

The door opened.

My mother walked in.

She wasn't alone.

Adrian was with her.

I covered my mouth.

“We don't have much time,” Adrian whispered.

My mother closed the door.

“Did she find it?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“She knows about Elena.”

Adrian looked at her.

“How?”

“She remembered the mirror.”

He went silent.

My mother sat on the bed.

“We should have never brought her here.”

Adrian's voice dropped.

“We didn't bring her here.”

My mother looked at him.

“You know what I mean.”

“No.”

“What?”

“She came here herself.”

My mother stared at him.

“How?”

Adrian's face hardened.

“Because she remembers.”

I stopped breathing.

My mother shook her head.

“She doesn't remember anything.”

“Then explain how she knew about Room 314.”

Silence.

My mother stood.

“Did you check the cameras?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Adrian hesitated.

“She wasn't alone.”

My mother froze.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there was another woman with her.”

“Who?”

Adrian looked toward the door.

“The woman from the photograph.”

My mother whispered:

“Elena?”

“No.”

He shook his head.

“Someone else.”

My heart pounded.

Someone else?

My mother walked closer.

“Who?”

Adrian pulled out his phone.

“I don't know.”

He showed her something.

I couldn't see the screen.

Then my mother whispered:

“That's impossible.”

I slowly moved the curtain aside.

Just enough to see.

Adrian's phone displayed a security photograph.

A woman was standing outside the hospital three nights earlier.

Her face was turned toward the camera.

My face.

My mother's face went white.

“That isn't Liyana,” she whispered.

Adrian nodded.

“I know.”

I covered my mouth.

Because suddenly...

I remembered her.

The woman in the photograph.

The woman who looked exactly like me.

She had been standing beside my hospital bed.

The night I woke up.

And she had whispered something.

Something I had completely forgotten.

I closed my eyes.

The memory returned.

She leaned close to my ear.

And whispered:

“If they tell you I died, don't believe them.”

I opened my eyes.

And looked at the suitcase.

Elena wasn't dead.

But then...

Who was?