Amara's initial impression of Dr. Cross? A living embodiment of peacefulness.
Lavender mingled with disinfectant in Lila's office - a quiet room where stillness felt almost audible. Her doctor watched her, composed, spectacles glinting; nothing escaped those observant eyes.
Lila glanced up from Amara's paperwork, her voice a quiet murmur. "Any progress with recalling things?"
A beat of pause from Amara. He'd brought her, personally - Ethan - lingered to see her inside, then pressed a kiss to her brow, a gesture so tender it felt…husbandly, just before he went.
"Be good," he'd breathed - a phrase that stuck with her, feeling less like affection more like a shadow.
"I remember flashes," Amara said, forcing her voice to tremble. "Mostly feelings, not events. Faces. But when I try too hard, it hurts."
Lila nodded, jotting something in the file. "Pain is the mind's way of saying not yet. Sometimes, the brain hides what the heart isn't ready to face."
Amara glanced up, drawn by Lila's tone. A strange quality lingered in her eyes – a blend of wonder, evaluation, yet also understanding.
Lila leaned back. "Tell me, Amara. What's the last clear thing you remember?"
"Rain," Amara said. "Wind. A bridge."
A wobble entered her speech. "Headlights too."
Lila stared, unmoving. "What about her spouse?"
A jolt went through Amara. She managed a small smile. "I found him this morning. Honestly, he's been wonderful."
A smile touched Lila's lips, yet her gaze remained distant. "Fine," she offered, a second affirmation trailing after.
The conversation meandered through gentle topics like meals, rest, and also how things felt. However, now Lila would ask something sharp, a question that cut right to the point.
"Do you ever feel like you're being watched?"
"Do you have dreams about the night of the accident?"
"Has Ethan been helping with your medication?"
By the end of the hour, Amara's pulse had quickened. Lila closed the file and said, almost casually, "Your test results are interesting. There's a chemical trace in your system we usually find in medically induced comas."
Amara froze. "What?"
Lila's face remained still. "Might mean little," she offered. "Hospitals often employ such medications when people have been through something awful - a way to get them steady.". But…" she tilted her head, voice dropping lower, "…you weren't admitted until three hours after the crash. The drug should've already worn off."
A chill raced through her - like a sudden dunk in freezing water.
A shiver traced Amara's spine, though she attempted composure. "So, what is it you mean?"
"I'm saying," Lila said carefully, "someone might have wanted you asleep a little longer than necessary."
Since leaving the hospital, Amara hadn't let her guard down, but now she just…stopped pretending. Her composure faltered, a crack appearing in the facade. Lila noticed this shift; consequently, her voice became gentler.
"I'm not accusing anyone," she said gently. "But I want you to trust your instincts, Amara. They might be all you have right now."
Amara emerged, finding Ethan already there, leaning against the vehicle.
The car was dark metal beside him as he watched her approach, a smile playing on his lips. He pulled his phone away, slipping it inside his jacket. "Color's gone from your face," he observed. "Bad time?"
"She asked a lot of questions." Amara forced a shaky laugh. "She's very... thorough."
Ethan's smile dimmed a fraction. "She should be. I made sure you got the best. You're my priority now, remember?"
His thumb traced her face, a soft claim. "Just you," he murmured
A tightness gripped Amara's throat, yet she managed a quiet, "Sure thing."
She watched him swing the car door open, subsequently walking around to settle behind the wheel.
The car moved, yet she kept looking. Her face shimmered in the window, broken into pieces. A flicker in that mirrored world – a shape, perhaps a person – appeared just beyond their rear bumper.
He held a camera, stationed near the hospital doors.
She spun about - vanished. He wasn't there anymore.
The screen lit Ethan's face as he stayed up working. From the hall, Amara saw his rigid posture, observed how still his hands were. A cold light painted the floor around him.
She recognized him - the drive, the distance, a ghost of what was once entirely her own.
She understood then that affection sometimes meant overlooking flaws.
He found her in bed at last, looping an arm about her. His mouth touched her neck as he spoke, a soft sound. "Something on your mind?".
"Just tired."
"From the session?"
"Yes."
"Good," he whispered, pressing closer. "I want you to rest. Don't overthink things, Amara. That's how you got sick in the first place."
Darkness yielded as her eyelids lifted.
How did I get sick?
Her pulse throbbed - a frantic drum - as she remained motionless, waiting for his breaths to deepen toward slumber.
Shaking fingers greeted the morning as she rose.
The studio felt like hers, mostly because Ethan avoided it. She went there now, lifting loose boards to retrieve a little tin box. It held a prepaid cell phone, a bit of money, likewise a memory card discovered within the fragments of her shattered necklace yesterday.
She pushed the card home; the display sputtered to life.
The dashcam showed a blurry picture. Rain lashed at the glass while headlights cut through the gloom. Her hand appeared, briefly filling the view…then nothing but snow.
The signal died just as someone materialized on the bridge - a dark shape, barely there.
Someone else entirely.
She existed. A person, breathing, living - simply a woman.
Out of the blue, Lila got a call from her the following day.
"I need you to come in," she said. "Without your husband."
A knot formed in Amara's throat. "But why?"
"There's something in your scan results. And something else you should see it in person."
Already heading out the door, Ethan juggled a phone call. A quick kiss on her forehead - "Home by six," he mumbled, "Take it easy."
The moment the door clicked shut, Amara snatched her bag, then vanished around the rear.
Lila met her at a side entrance of the clinic. "I checked your chart," she said quietly. "The medication dosage written on your discharge papers doesn't match what's in your bloodstream."
Amara stared. "Meaning?"
"Meaning someone's been giving you something stronger."
She wobbled, almost collapsing. "Whoever did this…"
Lila's gaze hardened. "Who gives you your pills?"
Silence from Amara spoke volumes; a reply wasn't necessary.
Lila took a breath. "Listen to me. You're being handled. Controlled. Whoever's doing this thinks you're still fragile, so they're using that to keep you docile."
"I can't—if I accuse him, he'll…"
"I'm not asking you to accuse," Lila said. "I'm asking you to prepare. I'll help you get proof. But you have to act normal around him."
Three quick raps at the door broke the spell between them.
The doctor looked up as a nurse quietly entered. "Your husband is waiting," she offered
A chill seized Amara. "Her spouse?"
A crease formed between the nurse's eyebrows. "Actually, this is for you, Doctor."
Her legs nearly gave way as relief flooded through her. Still, Lila showed no sign of relaxing.
She waited until the door shut again, then lowered her voice. "Amara, whatever you're planning, be careful. People like Ethan…. they don't just lie. They rewrite the truth."
She found him there, a silhouette in the dim light. He hadn't moved much - coat still draped over his shoulders, phone lying quiet on the wood. It was late.
"Tell me where you've been," he murmured.
"Therapy," she said. "You said"
"You didn't answer my calls."
"My phone died."
A slight nod. Nothing gave him away, yet he said, "Naturally."
Her feet carried her by, a drumbeat in her chest, yet he called out, halting her progress.
"She called me," Ethan said. "Dr. Cross. Said you had questions. About medication. About the coma."
A chill gripped Amara; she couldn't move.
Ethan turned, eyes dark and steady. "Why would you ask her that, Amara?"
Think.
"I just…. I was curious. It's confusing, not remembering."
For ages he just looked at her, eventually a smile touched his lips. "Nosiness gets you into trouble," he offered
He stepped closer, brushed her hair back. "Next time you're confused, ask me. I'll tell you everything you need to know."
Once more, his lips brushed her brow - a tender, yet resolute touch.
"I'm your truth," he whispered.
She didn't move when he left - a shock had locked her solid, a silent howl rising within.
The house quieted, then her phone vibrated.
The phone buzzed - a digit I didn't recognize flared on the screen. Someone was trying to reach me, a stranger sending a signal into my quiet day.
Her hands trembled as she unfolded the letter. A quickening pulse echoed in her ears.
Someone is observing your every move. Distrust everyone - including that woman.
Then came a picture, fuzzy because it was shot through a window.
She spotted Lila alongside herself at the clinic this morning.
A gasp escaped Amara.
The black screen showed her face, wavering, ghostlike. She wasn't certain anymore which side she stood on, if any.