AMELIA
My head ached so badly that I cried out, and along with my stomach ache it felt like I was intentionally being tortured.
I heard voices, both familiar and unfamiliar, I heard the urgency of that man's voice…I heard his anger although this time not directed at me. Strangely while I floated in the darkness, I was aware of everything around me, the man barking out instructions to another nervous-sounding man. A doctor, I assumed. I felt the softness of a mattress beneath me and the sting of spirit coming in contact with my open wounds. Then the unmistakable feeling of an IV needle being stuck in my arm. After a while, it all quietened and the aches eased. My eyes opened groggily, my vision blurry at first as I tried to regain my composure. Then memories of what happened a few hours ago came rushing in and my eyes snapped open completely and I lifted off the bed with a gasp, my eyes wide with shock. Shit! Shit! What the fuck is going on? Where am I? I looked around in a panic, trying to find something that looked the least bit familiar but the dread I felt only thickened when my eyes took in the luxury of my surroundings. A bedroom that was almost the same size as our living room back at home. Right. I needed to get back home! Just as I dragged the strawberry-scented sheets off my body and attempted to leave the bed, the doors to the bedroom opened and that man entered again. His brown hair was let loose, almost reaching his shoulders, his eyes the perfect shade of blue, and his lips the most kissable I’ve ever seen. He was muscular, his biceps bulging from the simple white dress shirt he had on, he was a really large man…I silently wondered just how tall he would actually be. No! Focus Amelia! I shook my head, the sheets ruffled and that seemed to rouse his attention. In his grasp was what seemed to be a glass of water, he met my eyes and time stilled for a moment. “Amelia,” my name on his lips sounded more like a curse but in that deep baritone that rumbled, I’d accept it any day. “You…” I looked at him with a narrowed gaze, trying to read his expression or find out his intentions. He claimed to be my husband. Which is total bullshit because if I married someone, I would fucking remember, won’t I? I don’t trust him. No matter how attractive he is. “How are you feeling?” He asked, there was a lack of warmth in his tone as his chilly gaze held mine in what felt like a vice grip. He set the glass of water down next to me and I tensed up the closer he got. His thick brows pulled together in a displeased frown when he realized I wasn’t giving him an answer. “Are you confused? Do you really not know who I am?” he sounded torn, like he believed yet, he couldn’t believe the fact that I didn’t know who he was. “I should be asking you the same thing,” I eyed him, “Are you still confused, will you keep up the fake story of being my husband or will you tell me what I’m actually doing here?” I questioned with a stern gaze of my own. Surprise flickered across his features before being replaced with annoyance. “For fuck's sake!” I heard him mutter under his breath as he took a step back and shook his head. “This can’t be happening…I am your husband, Amelia,” I scoffed, “I heard you the first time, Roman,” I retorted, muttering his name in the same way he did mine. Roman. I at least remembered that part before I passed out. “There is no way I have a husband!” His name was magnetic, just like him. If that was his name. My eyes narrowed with suspicion. Did someone save me at the last minute and then kidnap me? He seemed agitated by the fact that I didn’t accept his identity, he paced forward and backward, making my fear reach new heights. He's a fucking psycho! My eyes roamed the length of the room, trying to find the closest thing to a weapon. I have to get out of here! Just as he moved to lunge at me, I hurriedly grabbed the golden lamp from the bedside and fully stepped away from the bed, holding my…weapon in front of my body. He looked pissed off, with a dark sneer he walked closer and I swung the lamp at him, almost scratching his beautiful face if he hadn’t been fast enough. “Damn it! Amelia!” he roared in anger, his face red like he was damn near exploding. “Stay away from me you fucking creep!” I yelled, swinging the lamp repeatedly as I inched closer to the wide-open bedroom door. “Do you just pull young girls off the streets and then lie about being their husbands?” I snarled at him, my heart pounding so fast from all the adrenaline. He stopped in his tracks and looked at me with a confused stare. “What?” “I don’t know what games you’re playing, old man, but I want no fucking part of it!” I screamed, swinging the lamp one last time at him before slipping through the door and making a run for it. I had no fucking idea where I was and why a house would be this big. Still, I managed to find the stairs, running down with the lamp clutched tightly in my hands. I ran blindly forward, hoping I would find an exit before I ended up on the news. Just then I bumped into a hard body and heard a low grunt, the person held on to my shoulders to balance me, and with dizzying speed, I swung the lamp at the person’s head. “Ugh!” the man fell to the floor, “Mrs. Wellington, it is me!” Hearing that familiar voice had me freezing up, my eyes wide with shock as I looked down at those familiar warm eyes. “Trenton?” I gasped out in horror, the lamp immediately dropping from my hands as I reached for him. He got up and gave his usual reassuring smile before righting his clothes. “I am fine,” He reassured and I couldn’t help but notice how much different he looked. Older. Wait. If Trenton is here… “Amelia!” I heard the loud stomps of Roman’s footsteps as he came down the stairs. He didn’t sound pleased. The fucking psycho! “Trenton, you have to help me…I think we've been kidnapped!” Trenton's brows pulled together in confusion and just as his lips parted to speak, I felt long, callused fingers wrap around my wrist. And before I could scream, my back was pressed flush against his chest and the scent of lavender and whiskey infiltrated my senses and muddled my thoughts. He held both my wrists tight together and his second hand roamed up my neck, holding my chin in a vice grip and raising my face. I wanted to turn around and knee his groin, grab Trenton’s hand, and make a run for it but the sight in front of me had my entire body still. There I stood, frozen in shock as I started up at a large portrait of me…and Roman. I was in a wedding dress…my hair…was longer and my lips were stretched into what seemed to be a happy but empty smile. Roman was next to me with a chilly expression, get he held me, no doubt just for the picture but the displeasure in his gaze couldn’t be hidden. “it…It could be Photoshop!” I rasped even though I knew no technology was that advanced to make such a realistic photo. To say I was in shock would be an understatement. “It isn’t!” Roman muttered hotly into my ears, “This photo was taken three years and six months ago, May tenth,” “Th…that’s impossible, that means I’ll be seventeen then and I’ll definitely remember if I got married at seventeen…will I not?” I could hear the doubt in my own words as I looked up at the magnificent portrait. I heard him mumbling what sounded like Russian under his breath, a curse no doubt. He let go of my chin and the warmth of his hard chest left my back, leaving me strangely cold. “You were twenty-two in that photo,” he said. What? I turned around to meet his gaze, he looked down like he was irritated by my presence yet, he wasn’t lying…he truly believed I was his wife, and so did the worried-looking Trenton behind him. “If what you’re saying is true…why don’t I remember anything? Why don’t I know who you are?” I questioned, my voice trembling as the reality of my situation began to sink in. “That’s what I’d also like to know!” Roman explained, his fingers running through his soft tresses, he looked just as confused as I was. “Why don’t you remember anything that happened in the past…five years?” Five years? Five fucking years?! I took a slow, panicked step back. Feeling a sudden weight on me. He was not lying. How the hell did I go from running away from home to being this man's wife? How did I lose five years of my life in just a second?!AMELIAI watched with a blank expression as a nervous-looking man with a doctor's briefcase walked into the bedroom. Getting into the bedroom wasn’t an easy feat, it took Trenton convincing Roman he didn’t have to throw me over his shoulder…the fucking psycho. For a man who claimed to be my husband, he sure acted like I was his lifelong nemesis. I was seated at the edge of the bed while being questioned. “What is the last thing you remember?” The nervous man said, Dr. Britton, he called himself and I wondered if I was supposed to remember him too. “I got expelled, I ran away from home, now I’m here,” I said, leaving out the part where I eagerly wanted a truck to hit me intentionally. Roman's brooding expression darkened even further as I spoke and Trenton’s was filled with worry. Dr. Britton nodded with an understanding gaze, checked my eyes, my mobility, asked about my headache and stomach ache, what I ate last—which I didn’t remember—shocker. After what seemed to be hours but
AMELIAI spent the rest of the day in the bedroom I’d slept in.Roman’s warning was enough to keep me livid for the better half of the day, rethinking my life choices, including the ones I couldn’t remember.Now I had a birthday party to attend…my supposed father-in-law who I knew nothing about. The more time passed, the more worried I became.I found a phone I was sure belonged to me, seeing as the wedding portrait was on the lock screen. There was no way it would belong to Roman who hated me.I didn’t know the password. I tossed it aside with a frustrated sigh, my eyes landed on the clock by the bed and I realized I had to get ready.Roman had said 6:30, it was 6 pm.Begrudgingly I walked into the rather spacious walk-in closet and ruffled through my side.Again, I found nothing sensible enough to wear out, just long, loose dresses that looked more like maternity gowns. Then suits…why the hell did I buy so many suits?I ended up settling for a dress I remembered, one I bought a few
AMELIABreathe, Amelia. I reminded myself, my feet rooted to the spot as my sister's familiar eyes met mine. The deadly glare, the venom with no hint of shame or guilt that I had just found her kissing the man who called himself my husband. Though it seemed to me like I had only just seen her two days ago, when she reminded me I was the daughter of a dead whore, looking at her now invited a strange feeling. Like I had not seen her in a long time. Still, that anger and hatred at the immediate sight of her grew even more now that I saw her in Roman's arms. My head began to throb incessantly. “Um…” I was unsure of what to say, unsure of what I had just walked into. Roman visibly tensed up at the sight of me, taking an immediate step back and holding Bertha at arm's length. He cleared his throat, his expression cloudy as he looked at me. “Is this…” My throat felt dry, “Why you were so eager to divorce me? Because you’re…with my sister?” I hated how my voice shook when I
ROMANI made my way down the stairs with confusing emotions. Amelia just agreed to divorce me. The same Amelia who spent the past three years of our marriage trying to dissuade the topic as much as she could. The same Amelia who had threatened me that she would take her own life if I left her. The last time she walked into Bertha and I kissing, she cried for days, she ended up hospitalized, not that I ever bothered to check her, I never cared. Today she looked on like it was a joke. She seemed irritated, not hurt. My fingers unconsciously reached up to my chest, unable to fathom why my heart felt so tight, why the reality of her acceptance didn’t sink in. Probably because I spent too long thinking she’d never free me, now she has. Once we get back home, she’ll really sign the papers. “Roman!” my father called out, laughing heartily as he held a hand out for me. His aged eyes crinkled at the sides with false fatherly affection as he urged me closer, pulling me out fro
AMELIAI spent the first fifteen years of my life, as a naïve, only child with a strict father and a mother who loved me fervently. She was an only child, an orphan, so once she died all I had left was my father…and then Bertha and Monica came into the picture or rather, they’ve been in the picture longer than I’d lived. Bertha was born a year before I was. When my mother was still married to him. After my mother died, Hector Grayson's strictness morphed into hatred…he never gave a reason, he just switched overnight after her death. Since then, I’ve lived with my family like one without a family. I’ve vied for his love and attention, for his trust, his pride and all I’ve ever gotten was beatings. And the constant reminder that I am below Bertha. Why did I stay? Why did I live that way? My eyes snapped open and I was instantly aware of my surroundings. The smell of disinfectant and bleached floors flooded my senses, rousing me from what seemed to be the deepest sleep I’
AMELIAOur walk back to the car was rather awkward for me. After signing my discharge papers and footing the necessary bills, Roman never let go of my hand, despite the shocked looks on everyone’s faces. We bade them goodbye and then he let go once we were in at the parking lot and out of sight. I opened the front door and sat right next to the driver seat, surprisingly he didn’t call a driver but instead brought out the key and started the vehicle. He was so quiet that it unnerved me and I began to wonder what I could say to start a conversation. His expression was dark, most of the emotions in his eyes were indecipherable and I felt too sick to even try and understand the man. But still. The memory of the warmth of his strong, callused fingers still lingered. And I found my gaze drifting in his direction a few times. “I…” I cleared my throat, looking away and watched the passing city lights, “I am sorry about kissing you,” I apologized, my cheeks heated up from say
AMELIAPoisoned? I wasn’t sure how long I stood by the phone, even after the call had ended. Jessica had told me to be cautious, those were her parting words that only served to make me feel worse. The phone was still in my grasp, though the call had ended and I could feel my hands trembling. Poisoned? Does that mean…I have someone who hates me so much they want me dead? Who would do something so cruel? And…will it happen again? “Mrs. Wellington?” I heard Trenton call out from behind me, startling ne back to the present. To say I was shaken would be an understatement. I knew I wasn’t loved by anyone…but this…someone intentionally caused my amnesia or rather, they wanted to kill me. “Trenton…” I looked up at his aged face with watery eyes, “How did I end up here?” How did he end up here with me? His tired expression softened and he held my shoulder, “You need rest, it has been an eventful day,” he said. The words weighed heavily on my tongue, I contemplated
AMELIAI stared long and hard at the divorce papers, even after they brought up my breakfast. It might’ve been an excuse on my end to leave the food untouched. Though Roman had reassured me that it would be tasted and that nothing would happen, all that was just because he wanted my signature. How sure am I that he isn’t the one who poisoned me. That idea scared me more than an unknown person doing it. “No, Amelia…soon you’ll be far away, none of this will matter!” I muttered to myself. I will leave everything behind as soon as I have my feet planted properly. I will live the life I choose for myself. With a resigned sigh, I picked up the papers and made my way down stairs. I wasn’t aware of how much time had passed until I looked out the window and saw the moon was almost up. I reached the living room with the papers in hand but there was no sign of Roman. Does he have a study somewhere? Just then, Trenton and a maid walked out of the kitchen, Trenton gave her or