Chapter 2: A Stranger’s Smile
1208 Words
Elena didn’t move.
The marriage certificate quivered at Elena's hands as she sat motionless at the edge of the bed while keeping her eyes glued to the door where Darian vanished a few moments ago.
Quiet voices drifted from different corners of the room whose tense atmosphere was apparent despite soft whispers.
Doctor’s orders dictated that she should remain unconscious longer than this early wakeup time.
That declaration hammered against her mind similar to a silent countdown.
Who was that woman? What test results? Which authority needed to keep an eye on her healing in undisclosed conditions?
Her body rose carefully from the sitting position before she regained contact with the marble floor. Her legs regained strength under an approaching sensation that forced away her befuddlement. She conducted another comprehensive surveillance of the room yet her observation skills had become intensely detailed.
Everything felt staged. Perfect. Controlled.
All the fresh orchids on the dresser and all the framed photographs displayed throughout the room struck her as too simplistic for a real setting like a showroom display. Her memory remained unresponsive to the pictures featuring herself and Darian displaying their loving interactions but she failed to recall anything from those snapshots. Not even a flicker of recognition.
Who was she in those images?
Elena moved stealthily toward the door while being barefoot before listening to the voices outside.
The woman explained that the patient remained unoriented. The artificial memory creation could fail if the patient recovers too suddenly since it might cause emotional trauma or total acceptance and refusal of fabricated recollections.
Elena’s mouth went dry.
Darian spoke with a harsh whisper for her to keep her voice low. “She doesn’t remember yet.”
According to Blackwell the patient should not remember anything at this time. That was the point.”
Silence followed. Elena’s breathing stopped temporarily as she caught her air.
Memory… fabrication?
A cold sensation traveled from her neck to reach her entire body.
The disconnected fragments in her mind sent her heart racing while she retreated from the entrance. She struggled to recall any details about the wedding ceremony together with their relationship and her arrival at this location. Darian was treating her as if she had the sensitivity of an antique artifact. That female voice carried medical training instead of the typical wound stitching skills a doctor would use.
The passing breeze exposed her skin to its touch. Her gaze moved toward the balcony access which had an open window by the far wall. Life within the city sparkled with outdoor sunlight which spread across the district like numerous observing eyes. She walked toward the opening in search of any form of stability after her mind took a dangerous spin.
As she shifted her movement she arrived to see her reflection in the mirror that stood next to the entryway.
She stopped cold.
Something was off.
Not just the nightgown or the elegant bedroom—her. A reflection of Elena Carter stood before her yet remained more composed than her ordinary self. Her posture straightener. Her cheekbones are slightly sharper. The face in the mirror sported hair that exceeded her memory of its maximum length with deep black waves and smooth shine.
She touched her face. Her lips. Her skin.
She did not believe she was dreaming yet her surroundings had an unreal quality.
The door opened behind her.
“Elena” Darian’s voice called out to her, calmly but firm “Elena I need you to come sit down.”
Every fiber of her body urged her to make a quick escape as she slowly turned around. “What’s happening to me?”
He hesitated. Being emotional will endanger your safety. Please. Let me explain everything.”
She glared at him. I demand explanations because the woman mentioned fabricated memories but you indicated I spent time in a coma. You attempt to authenticate that I experienced a reality beyond what exists in my memory.
The approaching Darian displayed hands that aimed to manage the situation. The drugged state was meant to shield you from harm. Your memory is only one part of everything which the accident caused damage to. You were targeted, Elena. People were after you. I had no choice—”
“Targeted? What are you talking about?”
His jaw tightened. “Please, just sit. You must meet a particular person today.
She didn’t move.
Darian took his smartphone from his pocket to hit the contact button.
Moments later, footsteps resounded at the hallway again—and in walked the same woman from earlier. She is in her mid-forties, sharp eyes behind slim glasses, dressed in clinical gray. She looked at Elena like a surgeon would study a patient before slicing open the truth.
She introduced herself clearly with the name Dr. Vale. The doctor addressed Elena earlier before she lost her memory.
Elena snapped. “I want answers. Real ones. A fictitious rich-man story that supposedly describes my marriage cannot be accepted.
Dr. Vale gave Darian an acknowledgement, and then turned to Elena. “You underwent a non-standard neurological procedure—part of a highly classified cognitive rehabilitation trial. The purpose was to remove harmful trauma triggers. Your husband—Mr. Blackwell—was granted access to this method because of your... extenuating circumstances.”
Elena blinked. “You erased my memories?”
“No,” the doctor said carefully. “We suppressed them. For your safety.”
“Why?” Elena demanded. “What did I go through that was so dangerous to deserve this horrible experience?”
The doctor paused for sometime, and then slowly said, “Before the procedure… you tried to end your own life.”
The words hit into Elena like the force of a destructive object.
“No I don't believe you.” She spoke in a whisper while denying these words.
You tried to end your life from the balcony of your previous apartment. Darian rescued you at the precise moment.
“No,” she shook her head. “No, that’s not me.”
The doctor aimed her eyes at Elena with gentle tenderness while maintaining her professional voice. “The trauma was deep, Elena. Dangerous secrets that would endanger prominent individuals were in the process of being revealed when you sought to end your life. The memory procedure existed to heal you but its main function was to protect you from potential dangers.
Elena took a shaky step back. I need to know exactly what I tried to reveal.
Neither of them answered.
Again Darian moved toward her, extending his hand.
“Trust me,” he said.
She looked at him—this man she couldn’t recall getting married to, in a life she didn’t recognize, standing in a world that felt increasingly like a cage.
One terrifying idea entered her mind at that moment.
What if these circumstances might not represent the forgotten existence but could represent a controlled alternative existence where someone made me lose sight of everything else for its acceptance?
They all remained silent when a car alarm suddenly blared through the night from outside.
Dr. Vale’s face tensed. Dr. Vale alternated her sight between watching the window and gazing at Darian.
“They found her.”
- Writer
