~ANONYMOUS
She was back.
Alive and breathing, and I actually did not believe it until proof stared at me right in the face.
My girl was alive.
Finally. Fucking finally.
I watched as she made her way out of the building, and a smirk curled on my lips as I tracked her motions.
She was alive.
I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs at the discovery, but I did not. That would draw people's attention to me. There would be time to celebrate this joyous occasion later.
A man walked out after her. I was about to dismiss him as a human of no interest to me when a realisation dawned on me.
They were together. He walked up to her and their lips started to move.
My heart threatened to stop beating at the sight. They were talking.
My girl, the woman who was meant to be mine and mine alone, who wasn't supposed to do as much as look as another man, was talking to someone else.
They stopped before a car. He opened the door for her.
She smiled as she got in.
Then the man got into the driver's seat. And they drove off.
The man gave me a nod as he drove past me, and I had to fight the urge to run after him and punch his teeth down his throat.
My girl. Was with another man.
Was that why she left me? Why, when she must have seen me from her side of the car, pretended not to see me?
She had chosen someone else over me.
My hands slowly curled into fists. Cold, hard rage started to stir in my blood.
How dare her?
How could she have done that to me, despite everything I did for her?
How?
Or why, I should ask?
From the looks of the man, he wasn't that better than me. Hell, I doubt if there was a man in the entire universe who was better than me.
I was the most perfect, the most flawless man to ever grace the earth.
And she had walked — ran — away from me, to be with another man.
The urge to drive after that car, to dispose of the man and teach my girl a lesson pressed down on me so hard that I found it hard to breathe.
But I filed away the urge. I took deep breaths and managed to calm myself down.
I needed to play my cards right. If she was aware of that fact that I have found her, the possibility of her running away again would be high.
And even though I knew I could find her even if she decided to hide in an underground castle, I wasn't willing to go through that whole ordeal anymore.
So I made my decision. I would take her back. I just needed some more time to figure out and smooth away the imperfect part of my plan.
Turning my back on the building, I made my way to my parked car. Then I dialed a contact as I slid into my seat.
My personal assistant picked up the call on the first ring.
"Get the girl," I barked into the phone immediately.
He said nothing as he hung up, but I had utmost faith in him. He had never disappointed me, not even once.
Surely he had no reason to disappoint me now.
I had barely managed to drive just a few blocks away from the building when my cell phone rang again.
"Speak," I ordered as soon as I picked up the call.
My bodyguard responded immediately.
"The girl have been withdrawn. She is with me now. Should I bring her to you or take her house directly?"
I started the ignition.
"Bring her home. You will meet me there," I responded and was about to hang up before I remembered something else that I had to say.
"Hey. Make a detour on your way back and get me some good whips. I have a feeling that they will come in handy very soon."
And without waiting for his response, I hung up.
My heart was beginning to pound with a mixture of anger and excitement.
My girl was going to pay for what she just did. That was a sure thing.
And I could not wait to lay my hands on her soft, soft skin.
A savage grin spread across my lips as I shivered with anticipation.
This was going to be so much fun.
~
LYDIA
I was troubled. My mind, in addition and collaboration with my brain, was too restless.
I could not sleep. I could not even eat. And when my husband asked me if anything was the issue, I had shook my head to tell him no.
What was I supposed to tell him? That my brain was trying to warn me, trying to tell me something?
That a part of me was starting to think that I had been a victim of abuse either from his hands or from his best friend's and I wasn't sure if my memory should be believed or not?
I sighed as I turned around in my bed again.
This was torture.
It made no sense for Rowan to be my abuser, if there was one at all.
But then, what did I know? Crazy things happen a lot, and I might happen to be one of those crazy scenarios victim.
I had also considered the fact that it might be very possible for the both of them — Joey and Rowan — to be my assailant at the same time.
I mean, a lot of women had been abused that way. It was crazy to think of, but was I like those other women?
Was I a victim of my husband and my best friend?
Or was there a third person I had no idea about?
The thoughts threatened to drive me crazy, and no matter how much I tried to shut down my mind, it didn't work.
I needed to know the truth.
I needed to know the fucking goddamn truth.
So I sat up and flicked up the light switch situated on the wall beside my bed lamp.
Light flooded my room.
I looked around. If this was the room where I used to stay before I apparently disappeared and lost my memory in an accident, there had to be some sort of clue, right?
I must have hidden something.
I stood up and walked to my door, locking it from behind.
It was time to unearth the ghosts of my past.