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Telling It How It Is
Last Updated:
2021-05-22 10:41:05Aria
First I completely forget everything about who I am, where I came from, and how I got here, and now I’m hearing voices in my head?
I think maybe it is the medicine. I’ve had a lot of it, after all. I almost died, or so they tell me. I truly don’t remember anything before waking up and realizing I was in a hospital. I know I need to sleep, but that Sebastian guy has me thinking.
I feel sorry for him. It seems weird. One would think I would feel sorry for me. I guess I do. But I also feel sorry for him. He just lost the woman that he loves. She’s still right here, looking at him, looking just like she should, but it’s not her, not really. Maybe I will be someday, but I’m not right now.
And also he thinks he is a werewo
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AriaI feel like a wanton woman, but I want this man, and since we have been together many times, I can’t convince myself that it’s not okay. Trying to keep my hands off of him is like trying to prevent myself from breathing. The longer I try, the more it burns, the greater grows the need.I don’t know if the two of us being together will inspire any memories to fire off within my head, but at the moment, I don’t care. He is kissing me like he loves me, and I believe that maybe he does. He tastes like rain water, and I can’t get enough of the feel of his tongue against mine. He is cautious at first, taking his time, but when I place my mouth on his mark, he knows what I want and that I’m sure that I want it.We waste little time stripping our clothing off as
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AriaAfter a few days, I am dismissed from the hospital. Dr. Wilson, charming man that he is, says that normally, he would keep a patient who has no memories a bit longer, but in my case, he was fine sending me home. He said it was best if “my kind” took care of me. Since i still think I am his kind, I don’t appreciate this. But I go because I’d rather be anywhere but in the hospital.On the plane ride to Sebastian’s home, I sit next to him but say next to nothing as I stare at the window of the private jet we are on. His parents, who seem like nice enough people, although I’m not crazy about his dad, sit in the row in front of us and also don’t talk. Sebastian tries to get me to speak a few times. I mostly shrug and use one word responses, so he gives up. I know he wants to hold my hand, so when
