A few minutes later, I heard the front door close, and I knew she had left me. I was completely alone, and it hurt more to not know what I was missing. She carried around the pain of what I had done, and my slate had been wiped clean. I wondered how much of that was because of the accident or if it was self-preservation. I pictured her tear-soaked face from my nightmare.
When I finally found the strength to leave the bedroom, the emptiness of the apartment took the air from my lungs. I felt like I was slowly being suffocated.
I found a bottle of whiskey from under the island and I prepared to drink myself into oblivion. My eyes fell on a small cell phone on the counter top as I drank back the harsh liquid. She had my phone all this time? I poured another drink as I stared at it, wanting to call her and beg her to come back. I drank it down and slammed the glass on the counter as I spun it in my fingers.
I picked up the phone, telling myself that I would just call to apologize. As the screen lit up under my finger, I noticed I had a voicemail.
I hit the mailbox button and listened as a woman’s voice filled my ear, and it wasn’t Emma.
“Will, it’s A…Allison. I know I shouldn’t have talked to you in front of her. What we had meant something different to me than it did to you. I know that.” Her voice drifted off for a moment. “But I’d like to have another chance. Whatever your relationship is with that girl is never going to satisfy you. We both know you need more than that. Call me back.” The message ended, and I pushed the button to listen to deleted messages. Again, the same voice rang through with a message of apologies. The message was from when I had been in a coma, and someone had listened to it.
My chest tightened as the picture began to make itself a little clearer. Had I cheated on Emma? I wanted to pretend I didn’t know what it was this woman could do for me that Emma couldn’t, but inside I knew I wasn’t the good guy. I could feel it whenever my body had been against Emma’s. Had I forced her to do things that she didn’t want? My c**k twitched at the thought of being pressed against her ass when she struggled against me.
I knew I would need to call Allison if I ever wanted all the pieces, but it felt like that would be a slap in Emma’s face, even if she had already walked out of my life. I poured another double shot of Jack and drank it down, trying to cover the pain that was taking over me.
The regret was overwhelming, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. The sudden flood of emotion was sickening. I sat down on a stool and ran my hand roughly through my hair. I saw Emma’s face in the car, so sad and broken. It was because of this. I had ripped her heart out and nearly killed her that night, and while I lay in a hospital bed with her at my side, she had to listen to the voice of another woman begging me to cheat on her. Her ability to care for me and sleep next to me the previous night said a lot about what kind of person she was. A person I had taken advantage of, used, and hurt.
I closed my eyes and pushed the thought from my head. I didn’t want to remember. I didn’t want to know what I had done to her, but I knew I had to find out. It wasn’t fair that she was suffering from my actions and that I could choose to be in blissful ignorance.
Regardless of the memory loss, my heart knew. My pulse quickened whenever she was close to me; the smell of her flowery scent felt like home. She was an echo in my life that even amnesia couldn’t erase.
I slammed my hand down against the countertop as I looked around my empty apartment. If she was going to suffer, I needed to suffer as well. I poured another drink before searching my place for clues to our past.
The first thing I ran across was an oversized, yellow envelope full of pictures of two women talking. There was something familiar about the house in the background, but I couldn’t place it. I shoved them back inside the envelope and tucked them away in a drawer in the kitchen.
“Fuck,” I yelled out as I scanned the open space. I was doing this to myself. I was shutting it all out, but why?
I grabbed my laptop and typed in my password from memory. There was Emma’s beautiful face on a social network site. I clicked her profile and began to look down through her posts. The first thing I noticed was someone offering condolences for her loss.
I quickly pulled up a new page and searched her name. The results populated within seconds. I clicked the top link and saw the face of one of the women in my pictures. Her name was Judy and “was survived by her niece, Emma Townsend.” The date of the funeral was only a few days ago. I went back to the search results and clicked the next link. It was a small news story about a car accident off Riddler Road, and the victims were Emma and me. It was the same date as the funeral. Was it possible the tears were for the loss of her only relative and not me that night? I knew that wasn’t the truth. It was painful for her to be near me, and the voicemails proved why.
It hit me that Emma was home alone now, dealing with the painful loss of her aunt as well as having lost her boyfriend. I was a disgusting human being. Still, even with the words in black and white, it all seemed like I was reading a fiction novel. I didn’t feel like that man. I was overwhelmed with guilt and regret and only wanted to comfort her and make things right. I glanced over at my phone on the island and tried to convince myself to call her. I knew that was selfish. She needed space, and if I cared about her at all, I should distance myself from her.
I slammed my computer shut and went back to the kitchen. Even with the memories gone, the emotions coursed through my veins. I poured another shot and drank it down as my eyes landed on a set of doors in the back corner of the room. It was an old service elevator. Emma had said the third floor had been under construction, and I knew she was lying.
I quickly made my way to the doors and rode up to the next floor before I could second-guess my actions. The door opened, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark, cavernous space. I felt the wall just outside of the elevator, and my fingers ran over a series of switches. I flipped one, and the back of the room lit up, illuminating large, black contraptions for every sick sexual fantasy a person could imagine.
This was what Allison could do for me that Emma could not. But Emma knew of this floor, and she had to have known what was on it or she wouldn’t have been lying. I took a few unsteady steps farther into the space, running my hand over a leather bench with restraints on each side.
What kind of monster was I? My body’s reaction to being in the space only magnified that sickening thought. I felt excited. I wanted more than anything to have a memory of Emma’s body naked, legs spread and waiting for me.
I stepped back into the elevator and made my way to the main living area. I didn’t want to remember anything. I didn’t want to find out what kind of man I had been. How could I feel so much love for this woman and at the same time have no regard for her feelings?
I collapsed on my bed with my phone in hand, my thoughts racing as the alcohol slowly took over, and I drifted off into sleep.
I awoke a few hours later from a dreamless sleep to my phone vibrating in my hand. I flipped it over, anxious to hear Emma’s sweet voice, but the caller ID read Angela.
I answered it with a quick hello, my voice rough from sleep.
“Thank God. I heard about the accident. Are you okay?”
I sat up, groaning as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I couldn’t place her voice. “I’ve been better. I guess.” I pushed to my feet. I was still wearing my jeans and nothing else.
“I wanted to come see you at the hospital, but…” her voice trailed off, and I yawned as I made my way to the kitchen to make coffee.
“It’s fine. I was in a medically induced coma for most of my stay.” I prepared the pot and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. It didn’t hurt my feelings that someone I couldn’t remember hadn’t come to see me. Judging from what I had learned about myself yesterday, it was probably best everyone kept his or her distance.
“Jesus, William.” I could hear the pain in her voice. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”
“It’s fine. Emma was with me.” It hurt to say her name. Angela didn’t respond for a moment.
“Is she with you now?” She asked as I poured coffee into my mug and took a sip.
“No.” I didn’t want to elaborate. It hurt just thinking about her, and I had no idea what my connection was with this woman. She seemed genuinely concerned for me, but I had no idea why.
“Of course she isn’t there for you when you need her. I would have been.”
“You weren’t,” I spat out angrily. I didn’t like her tone as she talked about Emma.
“I’d like to come see you. I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t know if that is a good idea.”
“It’s important.”
I glanced at the clock on the stove, wondering if Emma would be awake yet. I needed to hear her voice and convince her to see me. I wanted to make this right, if that were even possible.
“Can I call you back later? I have something I need to do this morning.”
“Yes, anytime. Just call me.”
“I will.” I hung up the phone as I took another drink from my cup. My head was throbbing from my injuries and from a slight hangover.
I scrolled though my contacts until I found Emma’s name and clicked call. After two rings, the call connected, and I could hear her breathing on the other end.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” she repeated, and she sounded so much younger and fragile on the phone. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I guess. Just lonely around here. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come by. We could go out for dinner or…” I couldn’t find the words. I just needed to look into her big, beautiful green eyes.
“I have a lot of things to do today.”
“Alright, I understand.” I didn’t want to push her. I had no right to ask anything from her. “I’m supposed to meet up with some woman later, anyway. Angela, I think her name was.”
“You can’t!” her voice sounded pained. “She’s your ex-girlfriend. You just…can’t.”
That was the glimmer of hope I had been desperate to find. Emma still cared. “My ex?” That explained why she didn’t come see me in the hospital.
“Someone you used to sleep with. You told her it was over, and she wouldn’t accept it.”
I thought that over. Emma knew about Angela. If I were cheating on her, why would I break it off with her and let Emma know what was going on. Maybe I wasn’t as bad as it all seemed.
“That explains why she was such a bitch.” I laughed quietly. I seemed to have that effect on women.
She laughed sadly but didn’t respond.
“I won’t see her, Emma.” She didn’t say anything. “I won’t keep you.” Ending my conversation with her was physically painful.
“Bye, William.” She hung up before I could respond.
I squeezed my eyes closed and leaned my forehead against the cupboard in front of me. I didn’t want to know who I had been. I wanted to keep it all locked away as a bad dream. The feelings would fade, and soon I would only be left with the little bit of information I had looked up. If I had been cold and heartless before, why would I change that now? I knew why, and it killed me inside. Emma had gotten in my head.
Chapter Seventeen
The hours began to run together as I let myself slip deeper into depression. It killed me knowing I was missing so much and unable to remember any of it. The isolation of my apartment, Emma avoiding me, and the loss of any memory of her was like my own person prison cell. I was locked away from my own mind, and my heart screamed for me to make it right. I was in physical pain from her absence.
She had made it clear that she needed her space. I could deal with a little time. I had all the time in the world, but I couldn’t handle forever without her in it.
As the days bled together, I was becoming more like a caged animal. Little slivers of the real me began to show through, and I began to hate myself just as much as she did.
I drank to numb the pain. I drank to make time slip away. None of it dulled the ache in my chest. How was it possible to be so physically attached to someone who was a virtual stranger? I was more and more convinced that the loss of memory was more my own doing than that of the accident.
I spoke to the doctor, and all he could offer was for me to talk to someone. Opening up might trigger something from my past. If I could identify what it was I was running from, I might be able to bring myself to face it. I was running from myself, and spilling my secrets to a stranger would not make it better.
The one person willing to talk to me, and who seemed privy to those secrets, was Allison. I turned my phone over and over in my hand as I thought of calling her. I typed out a quick text and hit send before I could talk myself out of doing the right thing. I was willing to lose it all forever, if I could have Emma.
Can I see you?
I stared at the screen as I waited for a response.
No.
Emma had once again made it clear that she had moved on with her life. Leaving me stuck in my own personal hell to lose my mind.
I tossed the phone on the floor in front of me as I stared out over the twisted sexual devices that filled the third floor. I sank to my knees, my hands gripping in my hair.
Pain. Pain is what drove me, and now I was getting it back tenfold. I was being made to suffer for my sins, and I was my own warden. I stared off at my phone on the floor.
I grabbed it without over thinking my decision and called Allison.
“I didn’t think you would ever call,” She purred.
“I was…indisposed.” I said as my eyes danced over the devices in front of me. “You wanted to talk?” I didn’t want to discuss my accident. I only wanted a few answers.