The Life I Don't Remember

Mara Ellis had always trusted her memory. Maybe that sounded strange. Most people didn't think about their memories that much. Mara did. She remembered the first day she went to school. She remembered her mother's laugh when she was little. She remembered falling off her bicycle at nine and crying so loudly that half the neighborhood came outside. She remembered things. That was why the photograph scared her. It arrived at 8:17 on a Tuesday morning. Mara was sitting at her kitchen table, staring at a cup of coffee that had gone cold when her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen. Unknown number. Normally, she would have ignored it. Instead, she opened the message. There was no greeting. No explanation. Just a sentence. "You need to see this." Underneath it was a photograph. Mara tapped the image. For several seconds, she didn't understand what she was looking at. Then she did. And her entire body went still. The photograph showed a woman standing outside a luxury hotel. The woman was wearing a dark green dress. Her long brown hair fell over one shoulder. A silver bracelet was wrapped around her wrist. Mara slowly looked down at her own wrist. The same bracelet. Her fingers went cold. She zoomed in on the woman's face. Her heart began beating faster. Same brown eyes. Same small scar above her left eyebrow. Same lips. Same face. It was her. Mara stared at the screen. "No." She zoomed in again. Maybe it was someone who looked like her. A coincidence. A stranger. Anything but what her eyes were telling her. But there was no mistake. It was Mara. She looked at the date beneath the photograph. June 14. Her eyes moved toward the clock on the wall. 8:19 a.m. Today was June 14. Mara looked back at the photograph. She was wearing a dress she had never seen before. And she was standing beside a man. He was tall, dressed in black, with dark hair and a face that seemed strangely familiar. His hand rested lightly against her back. Mara zoomed in on him. She didn't know him. At least, she didn't think she did. Her phone vibrated again. "Do you recognize him?" Mara stared at the message. She typed: "Who are you?" The reply didn't come. She tried again. "Where did you get this photograph?" Nothing. Mara placed the phone on the table. She picked it up again almost immediately. She hated unanswered questions. It was one of the things her friends complained about most. If someone told Mara there was something she wasn't supposed to know, she would spend the rest of the day trying to find out what it was. She looked at the photograph again. The hotel. She knew that place. Or at least she thought she did. Mara opened her laptop and searched the image. The hotel was called Bellmont Grand. It was only thirty minutes away. She stared at the screen. Then at the photograph. Then back at the screen. "Okay," she whispered. There had to be an explanation. She grabbed her bag. She was going to find it. The Bellmont Grand looked exactly like the photograph. That was the first thing Mara noticed. The same stone entrance. The same tall glass doors. Even the same flower arrangement beside the reception desk. She stood across the street for almost five minutes before finally crossing. The moment she entered the lobby, an uncomfortable feeling settled over her. It wasn't fear. It was familiarity. She knew where the elevators were. She knew there was a café to the left. She even knew there was a small hallway behind the reception desk. Mara stopped walking. How did she know that? She had never been here. Had she? She tried to remember. Nothing. She walked toward the elevators. One of the doors opened. Mara stepped inside. Her finger hovered over the buttons. Before she could think about it, she pressed 4. She stared at the button. Why had she done that? The elevator began moving. Mara quickly pressed the lobby button. The elevator stopped. The doors opened. A man stepped inside. Mara forgot how to breathe. It was him. The man from the photograph. He looked at her. For the briefest moment, something changed in his expression. Shock. Not the kind of surprise you felt when seeing a stranger. Recognition. He knew her. Mara was certain of it. The elevator doors closed. Neither spoke. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. He was probably in his late twenties. Tall, composed, dressed in a dark shirt and trousers. There was something cold about him. Not cruel. Controlled. Like he had trained himself never to let his emotions show. Mara finally broke the silence. "Do I know you?" The man looked straight ahead. "Yes." Her stomach tightened. "From where?" He didn't answer. Mara turned toward him. "You were in a photograph with me." His jaw tightened. "Where did you get it?" "So you admit it's real?" He looked at her. For the first time, Mara saw something in his eyes that looked almost like pain. Then it disappeared. "You shouldn't be here." Mara frowned. "That's not an answer." "It's the only answer I can give you." "Why?" The elevator reached the lobby. The doors opened. He stepped out. Mara followed. "Wait." He stopped. She stood in front of him. "Who are you?" He looked at her for several seconds. Then he said, "Adrian." "Adrian what?" "Vale." The name meant nothing to her. But the way he said it made her feel like it should. "Have we met before?" Adrian's expression hardened. "Yes." "When?" He looked away. "A long time ago." "I would remember you." His eyes returned to hers. "That's what I'm afraid of." Mara's stomach dropped. "What does that mean?" But Adrian had already walked away. Mara stood there, watching him disappear through the hotel entrance. Her phone vibrated. She looked down. Another message. You found him. Her fingers tightened around the phone. She typed: "Who is Adrian Vale?" The response came almost instantly. Someone you promised never to trust. Mara stared at the words. Then another message appeared. "Leave the hotel." She looked up. Adrian was gone. Mara drove home with both hands gripping the steering wheel. She kept telling herself she was overreacting. There were explanations. There had to be. Maybe the photograph had been edited. Maybe Adrian had mistaken her for someone else. Maybe the anonymous person sending the messages was playing some elaborate prank. But none of those explanations answered the one question she couldn't stop thinking about. Why did Adrian recognize her? She parked outside her apartment. Before getting out, she checked her phone. No new messages. She stepped inside. Locked the door. Then locked it again. Mara walked straight to her bedroom and opened her wardrobe. She searched through every dress. Black. Blue. White. Red. No dark green dress. She searched the drawers. Nothing. She sat on the floor. Her breathing slowed. Maybe the photograph wasn't real. Maybe— Her phone vibrated. Mara flinched. Another photograph. She opened it. Her stomach twisted. It was another picture of her. She was sitting at a restaurant. The date was three days earlier. Mara stared. She had never been there. Another photograph arrived. Then another. In one, she was walking through a park. In another, she was sitting beside a swimming pool. In another, she was standing beside Adrian. Different clothes. Different places. Different days. But always the same woman. Mara. Her hands began trembling. She zoomed in on one of the photographs. Something was written on the back. She hadn't noticed it before. You don't remember because they wanted you to forget. Mara's heart pounded. Who were they? And what had she forgotten? TO BE CONTINUED...