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I saw her parting her full and perfectly drawn lips, but not a sound came out.
"I'll take your silence for a yes" I decided, grabbing the pistol tucked into her pants.
"Who are you?" Kendra asked me weakly, just as I was holding the weapon.
I burst out laughing. A low, guttural, almost threatening laugh.
I wanted to grab her by the neck and throw her out of bed, I was so furious.
"Seriously? Is this how you want to play it? Are you really sure?" I challenged her, determined not to let me fool myself again.
"I ... I don't know ... I ..." she mumbled uncomfortably, starting to look around in fear.
"Be careful what you say, Kendra, because this time I won't give you a second chance. Am I making myself clear?" I stopped her, but my threat seemed to trigger an adverse reaction.
"Who is Kendra?" she gasped, starting to shake and fidget.
She looked terrified.
"Where am I?" she stammered trying to pull herself up and sit up, but causing further pain, which made her moan. "It hurts!" she blew softly, bringing the hand to her chest, right where she had been hit by the bullet. "What happened to me?", she murmured dazed and in pain, looking at her bandaged arm and touching the bruises on her face and legs that she discovered from her blankets.
It was a moment and suddenly all that apparent calm vanished to make way for Kendra's fear that she was wriggling like a trapped animal.
Trembling and shaken, she removed the drip and tried to get up.
"There's no use running away " I slapped her, grabbing her arms as she tried to pull herself up.
Being able to stop her was more complicated than I had thought, as she was wriggling frantically and uncoordinated from her pain.
However as soon as she tried to get up, lifting herself up on her legs, I felt her give way.
She was pale as a sheet and I had to grab her around the waist to keep her from falling badly to the floor.
Kendra slumped against me.
"My head is spinning" she whispered to me, putting her arms around my neck.
I picked her up and she hugged me even more, as if she was afraid of falling into the void.
I put her back on the bed and slowly her hands came off my neck, sliding over my shoulders and down my arms.
If she hadn't been so upset and trembling, I would have thought she was provoking me to seduce me.
Her light and delicate touch had something intimate and tender, but I didn't get carried away.
I was about to retreat when her right hand grabbed mine.
Suddenly the tremor stopped.
I looked into her face.
She was staring at me. She had a confused expression, but her eyes were glued to mine as if she was looking for who knows what answer inside me.
"Do you remember me now?"
Faced with yet another silence from her, I broke away from her badly, but as soon as my hand left hers, Kendra gasped in fright, abruptly rising to take it back.
That gesture cost more pain in her chest.
She screamed out of the pain and this prevented her from leaning further forward to get to me.
***
KENDRA
My head throbbed violently and I didn't understand anything.
My mind was empty of all memories and crumbs of rationality, but full of pain and confusion.
That man in front of me scared me, but at the same time he created a sort of reassurance in me. Maybe it was because he seemed to know me, but his hard, stern, relentless gaze and tone were like a warning siren.
One part of me screamed to escape, while another begged me to stay and ask him for help.
I didn't know what to do and when I was again overwhelmed by fear and pain, only in his arms I felt something vaguely familiar.
Maybe it was the scent of his skin. A woody, fresh and aromatic essence. Intense and virile. He reminded me of something ... but what?
And that face ...
I had already seen it but it was all so hazy in my head, at least until my gaze was captivated by him.
There was something in those ebony eyes. Something wild but controlled. Powerful and magnetic, but also as elegant as the clothes he wore.
I immediately felt a certain awe at his gaze fixed on me, as if I were used to always taking a step back to avoid unleashing that aggressive side of his that seemed ready to escape and destroy anyone around.
Finally, that voice ... Yes, I knew that voice. I was sure. It was it who had sent me into crisis, because I was sure I had heard it before, but that low tone, rough and with a foreign accent that fascinated me, had actually put me in agitation.
Even his words had frightened me.
I had looked for their meaning, the reason why he was so angry with me, but I had not found it.
That thought had made me lose my temper and I found myself wanting to escape from that danger that I felt looming over me like a sword of Damocles.
I was terrified and weaker and weaker, so much so that my legs couldn't hold me, but in his arms I was able to catch my breath, numb and reassured by the scent of his skin.
But then he let me go and, as my hands ran along his arms to his fingertips, I suddenly felt panic flooding me and suffocating me.
When I saw his hand separating from mine I was assailed by an inexplicable fear.
I could almost see myself as an external spectator, while my body tended towards what seemed to be the only lifeline to avoid falling into the void.
I jumped forward and suddenly the pain in my chest, just below my left shoulder, pierced me as if someone had stabbed me.
It was a moment and suddenly the whole reality around me became dark.
I felt disconnected, as if I had been catapulted into another world.
I was on an elegant and very spacious staircase.
In front of me there was that man's hand again.
It was leaning towards me and I could feel my body tensing towards it, but the pain in my chest returned stronger than ever.
My breath broke in my throat, while my body fell backwards, into the void.
I tried to counter the invisible force that was pulling me towards the abyss, but I could not.
In front of me there was only that man leaning forward to grab me.
I saw his hand extended to me, but I only managed to touch it for a split second.
I looked up for a brief moment before falling.
I met my gaze with that of the man.
I read a shadow of fear and disbelief in it.
"Aleksej", I whispered desperately for help, as his hand became more and more distant and the pain unbearable.
Then everything disappeared and darkness returned.
A darkness torn only by my own screams mixed with those of the man who called the doctors.
With my heart pumping frantically and my body shaking with fear, I opened my eyes and realized I was crying.
I was completely curled up on myself, like a sheet of paper before being thrown into the trash.
I blinked several times to free myself from tears and in the end I saw it: that man's hand was in mine.
I was squeezing it so tightly that my nails stuck in his skin.
That image was like a sweet awakening.
"I did it ... I got you ..." I stammered shaken by a tears of relief and shock at what seemed to be a hallucination, as I was back in the white room where I had woken up again.
"What are you saying?", he asked me confused and out of breath.
"I… I was falling. Aleksej… ", I tried to explain without knowing how to do it. I was so devastated that I couldn't come up with a meaningful sentence.
"Then you remember me now", he hissed with a hint of sarcasm in his voice that left me unsettled.
Aleksej.
Yes, I remembered him, even if for the moment it was just a name and a physical body, devoid of an identity.
A little light of hope and memories of a distant and confused past.
I smiled with relief.
At that moment the doctor and two nurses came running.
I immediately heard the man get angry and shout something. It took me a moment, but then I realized that he was speaking another language.
A language that I gradually felt I knew.
They were talking about post-traumatic shock, reabsorbing brain hemorrhage, anxiolytics, while the man next to me was furious at not being warned about what had just happened and screamed that he was paying them enough to get answers about my health to make me heal.
"We don't know how long it will take, but surely we talk about at least a week", the doctor tried to say in the same foreign language.
"A week?!", the other got angry.
"Discharge her earlier could be risky. The microfracture of the skull takes time and the hemorrhage is not yet completely reabsorbed. In these cases, hospitalization cannot be less than two weeks."
"I don't want to stay here!", I interjected worriedly, clutching that hand to my chest from which I could no longer separate myself.
"You also speak Russian ... Why doesn't that surprise me?" the man hissed nervously, turning to me with a look so sharp that it left me breathless.
With a yank, he freed his hand from my grip.
"No…", I blew softly as if they had blown air out of my lungs.
"Keep her as long as you want, but I want this shame to end", the man growled, getting up from my bed and walking towards the door. Then he looked back at me. "And you, Kendra, have until tomorrow to… get your memory back. The time to play is long over."
"Aleksej", I whispered again in anguish, but he left leaving me at the mercy of myself and those doctors who immediately came to visit me and fill me with questions.
I was frightened because, as the questions increased, the awareness of having a big black hole in my head became more and more clear and vivid inside me.
The question that tormented me was: who am I?
Aleksej was the only thing I remembered.
He was my foothold in order not to drown in anxiety.
I wondered who I was and remembered that he had called me Kendra, but that name meant nothing to me.
I asked the nurses several times about Aleksej, but they didn't seem to want to listen to me.
I felt panic overwhelm me again, but before I could react and run to the only person I remembered, the doctor got a shot and shortly after I fell asleep.
CHAPTER 3
KENDRA
"Kendra, would you like if we try to concentrate and visualize your memories again?", asked the psychologist to whom my neurologist had addressed, after spending two days controlling my panic attacks and my seizures, that had started ever since I realized I had lost my memory.
Unfortunately, even with the psychologist things weren't going much better.
Every time I closed my eyes, I relived the same scene: I falling down the stairs, trying to grab Aleksej's hand.
The doctor had explained to me that this was not a hallucination, but a flashback of what had happened and that caused my hospitalization due to the injuries, including a skull fracture, a sprained ankle, a fracture of the meniscus, an injury to the right arm, a bruise on the face and a bad wound in the chest whose cause I had not yet understood.
For the doctors I was a miracle worker, because I could have died or been paralyzed due to the fall.
In those two days, I had done a lot of tests and finally the cerebral hemorrhage had disappeared with great relief for everyone.
However, Aleksej had not yet shown himself, and the more time passed, the more restless I felt.
I had repeatedly asked about him and if anyone knew why he was angry with me, everyone had avoided my questions with embarrassment.
"Kendra?" the psychologist called me back, bringing me back to reality.
"I've already told you. I don't remember anything. I don't know my name, where I come from, how I ended up here and, even though I know that the man is called Aleksej, I don't really remember anything about him. I just know that he knows me and he seems very angry with me. I don't understand ... What have I done to him? Why does he know me?"
"Let's try to get back to you."
"I'm sick of being bombarded with questions I can't answer" I blurted out, feeling my headache come back, like every time I fidgeted or struggled to remember.
"I'm just trying to help you".
"So, if you want to help me, call Aleksej. I'm sure he will be able to answer your questions and I will be able ..."
"Will you be able?"
"Nothing", I muttered embarrassed. I didn't want to reveal how alone I felt with my fears and questions, in that hospital bed, surrounded only by strangers.
As much as he scared me, Aleksej was the only memory I had. The only thing that kept me clinging to that shred of rationality, without drowning in madness.
"Mr. Vasilyev is not available at the moment."
"Are you talking about Aleksej?" That surname meant nothing to me.
"Yes."
"Please, I need him. I don't know what I must have done so badly to have made him hate me so much, but if only I could remember… ", I exploded, destroyed, bursting into tears.
"Kendra".
"I'd just like to talk to him and get some answers" I sobbed as my mind returned to the only memory I had, making me want only to reach Aleksej and feel safe.
***
ALEKSEJ
When I saw the name of the clinic's neurologist on my cell phone display, I felt restless for a moment.
"I hope there is some news" I began without preamble.
"Not what you expect, but ... "
"Then I am not interested" I cut short irritably.
"Mr. Vasilyev, please, you must believe me if I tell you that there is a real possibility that the patient is suffering from retrograde amnesia due to the severe head trauma reported. However, we are only talking about a mnemonic gap linked exclusively to memories, but not to gestures and behaviors. Even her language has not been damaged and the woman passes from Russian to English without the slightest difficulty. Not to mention that short-term or post-traumatic memory is intact."
"I do not care! I want to know what she's been doing to me in the past eight months" I snapped, slamming my fist on the desk.
"There are chances that memory will come back" the doctor stammered uncomfortably.
"I cannot believe. You are one of the best neurologists on the market, but you are so stupid that you have not yet understood that this amnesia thing is just a hoax."
"There are still many questions in my field, but I can assure you that there was and still is an injury" the offended doctor replied dryly. "Rather, I advise you to visit the woman."
"If she hasn't already run away."
"Run away?" It's impossible! Her room is under constant surveillance, as you requested. Furthermore, the patient's health conditions are still too precarious to walk alone for more than a few meters."
"Has she already asked you for a cell phone?"
"Yes."
"Seen? I was right! She is trying to cheat you!"
"She just asked us to call you. Repeatedly" the man countered.
"Me?"
"Yes. The psychologist claims that a sort of addiction has been created towards you because of her only memory. Kendra Palmer is suffering a lot, she feels alone and abandoned. She has no one and she suffers a lot from this amnesia. Our advice is to go back and talk to her, trying to put aside the hatred you feel, unless you want to tell her the truth."
"I'll never play her sneaky games."
"I don't think she is playing, but if you want to have answers, I think you are the only one who can have them. You have already managed to get her a memory. Who knows if your closeness won't make others emerge."
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