So... this pile of clipped paper says:
My name is Rysa Thalorin, daughter of the late Ronald and Elanor Thalorin.
I am 25 years old.
My blood type is O Rh+.
I have a concussion, fractures in my tibia and fibula, and blah... blah... blah.
My local guardian is... Drake. No surname. And apparently I'm a low-grade... Air Varian. Whatever that means.
I set down the medical records that my nurse forgot to take after changing my drip. Were medical records supposed to be this detailed?
I stared at the ceiling. Questions kept racing and popping inside my head, but whenever I tried to catch one, it felt like my skull was going to crack open.
Thinking was hard work now, so my mind just drifted, hoping it would stumble on some hidden secrets that used to be my life.
Fluffy hair must be Drake, since he was the only other non-medical person I've seen so far.
Who's he to me...? No idea.
It had been about a week in this too-clean hospital room, stuck in bed with a plastered leg and an aching brain.
No one else came to see me except for the doctors and nurse. They occasionally asked me some questions, but I didn't answer. The doctors assumed I didn't speak because I was traumatized.
But in reality?
I was positively terrified of hearing my own voice. I couldn't remember my voice.
Which made me think, what did I remember?
The answer was nothing. I was a living being with no identity and nowhere to go. A self-aware newborn baby.
To top it off, I woke up from nightmares every day, sweaty and nauseous. I'd jolt awake every time to remember nothing.
I must've gone through some pretty traumatic shit to end up looking like the corpse I was right now.
Maybe if I saw myself, I'd remember something... but honestly, what were the odds?
Even though I looked like bones wrapped in a pale sheet of skin, the hospital room looked luxurious. And the question looped back to,
Who was I really?
I sighed.
The door slid open, and my grumpy-looking nurse walked in and snatched the record sheets from the side table, checked the drip, scribbled something, and stormed out in a huff. I made a face at her back.
Monica. Same age as me. At first, she tried to coax me into talking with a voice so gentle you'd think she'd dropped straight from heaven.
But when I stayed silent for days, the mask dropped.
She interrogated me like an officer cornering a criminal, deliberately forgetting my pain medication or jabbing the IV into my arm over and over just to get a reaction.
My arms are now bruised so badly I don't even want to look at them.
Ugh... when can I get out of here?
The door opened again. Expecting the doctor, I pulled myself upright.
"Rysa?"
Fluffy stood by the door in a blue suit, hair pulled back, looking every bit the shrewd businessman. The next moment, he crossed the room and leaned in. In a reflex, I raised my arm, stopping him before he could get any closer.
What the heck does he think he's doing? I recoiled on instinct.
"I see... You still haven't forgiven me." Sounding disappointed, he withdrew his hand and revealed a red rose bouquet in his other. A piercing pain flashed through my head.
"Whatever I did was all for you. If it weren't for me, you'd still be suffering living with that monster. Father was wrong this time! And now he's gone. Can't you see? because of his one mistake, I almost lost you."
Pain clouded his eyes as he dropped to his knees on the floor, thrusting the bouquet toward me. The pain inside my head sharpened.
"Don't you see... Now that I've got you back. We can finally live as we used to. Just you and I."
Huh?
Over the past week, I realized I was in a private VIP room on one of the top floors of a well-known hospital. Two guys in matching black and white suits stood guard outside my door.
Three doctors and a nurse checked up on me in rotation, and all looked at me as an object of pity and fear. The nurse was openly hostile towards me.
If this is what he meant by "live as we used to," no thanks.
And looking at my state, either I pissed off someone important, or I was the important one who was being kidnapped and mistreated.
But from the look of it, it seems nobody knew my brain was empty.
He said, "Father". Does that make us siblings?
I needed answers... and he was the only one who could give them to me. But honestly, this feels like some kind of soap opera.
Okay. Let's see where this goes.
"Drake, what happened to him?" I croaked, wincing inside.
Drake stiffened. The color drained from his face. His eyes turned restless.
"Don't worry, Rysa." Dropping the bouquet, he grabbed my hand.
"You're safe now. He won't come after you. Everything's going to be okay. Trust me," Drake says hurriedly, squeezing my hand.
Is he talking about the monster? Why would a monster come after me? If the six-foot Drake was scared of him, I'd be just a toothpick for him.
Oooor did I steal something from him...?
That makes another worry to add to the pile. I should have just kept my mouth shut.
Still, something felt off. I pulled my hand out of his grasp, and a disappointed frown crept onto his face.
"Why'd you come today?" I asked, trying to get rid of the scary guy.
His expression flickered—something between hurt and irritation—before he masked it.
"The doctor said you can be discharged tomorrow. We'll be going to my place. Your place is too dangerous to stay right now. I'll move all your things to my place before we get there. So rest easy. Tomorrow I'll pi—"
"No"
"What?"
"I said NO!"
The reaction just sprang out of me, surprising us both. My gut twisted inside me. The sharp pain inside my head intensified, making me tear up. I can't—I don't want to go to his place.
It hit me then.
I was afraid of him.
But why?
A shiver travelled down my spine. Think of something—ANYTHING! someone screamed inside my head.
"Um, I—I want to stay at my place." I stuttered, voice trembling.
"I don't wanna be a bother. If... if you're worried about my safety, keep those guards at my place." I said, trying to control my breath.
"Bother? What are you even talking about?! You think this is a game? If he finds out you're alive, we are dog meat. So please listen to me just this once." He raged, looking at me with pleading eyes.
I shuddered at his words, but my body was unshakable. Even thinking of giving in to him made my stomach churn.
"N-no. I need my space to recover. An—and one of my friends is going to come and stay with me in two—no, in three days. I can't back out at the last minute." I lied through my teeth, praying he wouldn't dig further.
"A friend? Who?" he asked, frowning.
"You don't know all my friends. Now, please leave, I'm tired." I said softly, pinching the bridge of my nose. He was staring daggers at me.
PLEASE, JUST GO.
Lips thinning, he clenched his jaw and gave me a forced smile. I sank into myself.
"I'll pick you up at 4 pm tomorrow."
Then he stormed out without looking back.
I withered into the bed, exhausted as all the tension left my body.