I always thought people woke up from comas or unconsciousness with something dramatic—a sneeze, a finger twitch, a scrunched nose, or maybe a soft gasp.
But I woke up with a loud fart.
The sound echoed through the ward like an announcement no one asked for, sharp and humiliating.
Followed immediately by a few shocked gasps and groans from nearby patients. I froze, my eyes snapping open in panic as heat rushed to my face.
That was… traumatizing.
A sharp smell of antiseptic and drugs flooded my nose. My head spun slightly as I blinked up at the ceiling, white and unfamiliar.
Pain settled into my body in quiet waves; my arms, my legs, my head—everything hurt.
I realized I was in a hospital.
I turned my head slowly and noticed a small bedside table beside me. A few flowers sat on it, neatly arranged. I had no idea who they were from.
Then, my vision swam again, dizziness pulling at me, so I rested my head back on the pillow.
That was when I saw an old woman coming closer.
'Finally you are awake." She said with a smile.
Something in her voice felt warm and soothing.
"Grandma," I whispered out without thinking.
She laughed.
"Yes, my child," she said, laughing.
The word slipped out so easily, yet I didn't remember her face. I didn't remember anything at all. What happened, why was I here, or who was this woman truly?
I tried to remember. I pushed my mind hard, searching for something, anything, but instead, pain exploded in my head. I winced, my hand flying to my temple before I gave up.
I noticed the drip attached to my wrist. I touched it carefully, watching the clear liquid move through the tube.
Then a handsome man walked in, dressed in a doctor's robe.
"How do you feel?" He whispered softly, checking my drip.
"I am good, just a little headache," I groaned out.
"That's better; we'll give you something for that." He said.
My lips moved before my brain caught up.
"He was drop-dead gorgeous," I muttered out slowly.
"What did you say?'" he asked, startled by my own voice.
"She said you are gorgeous," the grandma screamed out.
My cheeks burned. I turned my face away, suddenly very interested in the bedsheet.
She laughed loudly, and the doctor smiled, clearly amused.
"I am afraid to break this to you, but you are urgently suffering from a memory loss, but luckily you can still remember some things, but recent issues could be hard to remember. So please, if you remember anyone we can reach out to so they know you're here, please let me know." The doctor said.
My chest tightened, and I shook my head slowly. I didn't remember a thing. Not even my parents.
"You have me, though, so you have nothing to worry about; we will get through this." The grandma said softly, holding my hands and hugging me.
I didn't know when tears slipped down my eyes.
"Your phone was broken, but I got it fixed. Maybe there are memories or a contact you can reach out to." She said, pointing a small phone at me. The same one I hid in my lingerie during my time in the brothel.
I took it carefully, like it might disappear.
Then a cold voice spoke from behind.
"Grandma, I have to leave; the meeting starts in a minute."
The sound of his voice sent a strange shiver down my spine. It was deep, smooth, and almost hypnotizing. When he stepped into view, my breath caught.
He was too attractive, better looking than the doctor. Even though I lost half of my memories, I would never lose a sense of beauty.
Ginger hair caught the overhead light, slightly tousled, like he didn't bother taming it unless he had to. It framed a sharp jaw that looked carved rather than soft, the kind that stayed tense even when he wasn't speaking.
His ocean-blue eyes were the first thing that truly held me in place, deep, cold, and distant, like they were always fixed on something far away. They didn't linger on faces.
They didn't reveal thoughts. They carried a quiet weight, unreadable, as if whatever lived behind them was carefully locked away.
I smiled automatically and adjusted my hair to the side.
"She is awake," Grandma said.
He didn't even look at me.
'Grandma, you don't have to stay with her; Austin will handle everything."
And just like that, he turned and walked out.
"That was rude and cold." I muttered, pouting slightly.
"Is he always that rude?" I asked.
"Sometimes," the doctor said with a smile. I pouted again.
"I am so happy you are alive," Grandma said.
Austin followed Raisem outside. Grandma soon walked out too.
Curiosity pulled me out of bed. Since I was the only one left in the room, I quietly moved closer to the door and eavesdropped. I could hear everything they were saying.
"What should we do about her?" Austin asked.
"How am I supposed to know? She didn't die from the accident, so that takes the responsibility off my head." Raisem said without emotions.
"She lost her memory, and there is no way we can reach her family." Austin said, running his hands through his hair.
"Put out a wanted poster online or something; I don't care," he scoffed, and Austin walked away.
I stepped back quickly as I heard Raisem make a phone call.
"Gather all women suitable for childbirth, no feelings attached, and after birth, no relationship with the child."
The call ended.
My heart skipped.
What… was that about? I didn't take it to heart; it was none of my business. I returned to my bed quietly as another headache rolled in.
******
Night fell.
I must have fallen asleep because the small phone beside me suddenly rang. The caller ID read Mollypen Hospital.
My heart raced as I picked it up.
Maybe this was it. Maybe this would lead me to my family.
"Please, am I speaking with Miss Ara Henderson?"
It took a moment before I answered.
"Yes."
"Thank goodness, we've been trying to reach out to you, but there was no response. We are sorry to inform you that we lost your mother a day ago. She is dead."
The words crushed straight through my chest.
"What do you mean by dead?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"I'm sorry; please come to retrieve the dead body as soon as possible."
The call ended.
I stood there, frozen, tears sliding down my cheeks. My memories shifted painfully. For a moment, I remembered my mother's face—but it was blurry, fading almost immediately.
I cried.
As I tried to force myself to remember more, my head screamed in protest. Pain slammed into me, and suddenly blood dripped from my nose.
I pressed the bedsheet against it, shaking, clutching my chest as the pain worsened.
Without thinking, I walked out of the ward and found my way to the rooftop.
My mother was dead.
She was everything I had. Without her, I felt empty—useless. Like dying would be easier. Like killing myself wouldn't matter.
I stepped closer to the railing.
The cold metal pressed against my palms as I leaned forward slightly, the night air biting into my skin.
The city lights below blurred into long streaks as my vision swam, my head pounding in uneven rhythms. My legs felt weak and unsteady, like they didn't fully belong to me anymore.
Then, I noticed a shadow nearby.
It stood still, quiet, close enough to feel but far enough to ignore. I didn't have the strength to care who it was. I turned my face away, gripping the railing tighter as my chest rose and fell unevenly.
Then chaos erupted.
Footsteps thundered onto the rooftop. A patient burst through the door, screaming wildly, his voice loud and broken. Something harmful and sharp glinted in his hand under the dim light.
Panic exploded instantly. Nurses and doctors rushed behind him, shouting, scrambling, and with fear written all over their faces.
"Please, sir, drop it, please." Austin begged.
His voice cracked with desperation.
"Don't come near me." The man's breathing was ragged and unstable. His eyes darted wildly until they found me.
They locked onto me.
Before I could react, he lunged towards me like a wild animal.
In seconds, his arm wrapped around my neck. His grip was tight, crushing, and cutting off my breath. I gasped, my hands flying up as instinct took over.
My back slammed against his chest as he dragged me backward.
I screamed, the sound tearing out of my throat as I struggled weakly, my legs barely supporting me.
"Please let her go." They begged.
Hands reached for us, voices overlapping in panic, but no one moved close enough. The man's grip tightened as my vision blurred at the edges.
Desperation kicked in. I had to survive.
I turned my head sharply and bit his hand with everything I had.
He roared in pain.
The next moment came too fast.
He shoved me violently, his strength fueled by rage. My body moved forward. His hand fisted in my hair, yanking hard, my scalp burning as I cried out.
Then my foot slipped, the world tilted as the railing pressed sharply into my waist, and then it was gone.
I fell over the edge, and everything slowed down.
The noise faded into a distant roar as my stomach dropped. Cold air rushed past me, whipping my hair, stealing my breath. My heart slammed once, hard, like it already knew this was the end.
And then, a hand caught mine. His grip was strong and firm.
My scream tore through the night as my body jerked violently, the sudden stop sending pain shooting through my arm. I dangled there, suspended between sky and ground, my legs kicking uselessly.
My eyes locked onto a golden wristwatch on the hand holding me.
It gleamed under the lights, impossibly clear.
It was Him, the cold man I met in the ward. The grandson.
And I noticed something warm dropped onto my face. I blinked, stunned, and slowly looked up again.
His face was twisted in pain, blood dripping steadily from his nose, dark streaks trailing down his lips.
His jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes were squeezed shut as he held onto me with everything he had left.
My fingers tightened around his instinctively, my nails digging into his skin.
Then suddenly, his grip loosened.
Just slightly. Enough to feel it.
"No—!" I cried out, panic ripping through me as I tried to pull him back, tried to hold on harder, and tried to save us both.
But it was too late.
His hand slipped from mine, and he lost balance.
It finally happened; we both fell.