CHAPTER 24
KATE
I remembered everything.
It was the ceiling that I recognized first. When I opened my eyes, I immediately remembered where I was. I was in a cabin on a getaway weekend with my boyfriend, Liam. But that wasn't all that I remembered.
I laid in bed, trying to make sense of all the thoughts that swarmed through my mind. It was all so confusing. The last three weeks were the most vivid. From the moment I woke up in the hospital after the car accident, all the way to the moment I fell down and hit my head in the forest. It was all fresh and clear. But that wasn't all there was. Not anymore.
I remembered who I was and where I had come from. I remembered my childhood and where I had gone to school. I could remember my best friend growing up and why we didn't talk anymore. I could remember my first boyfriend, and more importantly, I could remember my last.
"Oh, thank god," Liam said from the corner of the room. I jumped when I heard his voice, sitting up and turning around just in time to see him coming for me. "I was worried there for a minute. You've been out for hours."
"Oh, okay," I said vaguely as I looked into the eyes of the man I both loved and hated.
I didn't know what to make of what was happening. On the one hand, I knew that I loved Liam. He sat down on my bed, took my hand in his, and kissed it. I was only too aware of how I felt about him. I remembered the last few weeks we had spent together and how my feelings for him had developed. But I also knew that it was all a lie.
I remembered how we used to date. We dated for three whole years. It was during his last year of med school and his first two years at the hospital.
I could remember how in love we were back then, at least at first. But then it all fell apart as he worked more and more and saw me less and less. He constantly chose his job over me and made it seem like I was being possessive when I tried to see him.
And then he broke up with me. Out of the blue, he chose to crush my heart as if it were nothing. Even though he tried to take it all back the next day, I wasn't going to allow myself to be hurt by him again. He may have ended it, but I made sure it stayed ended. And that was how it was meant to stay.
But clearly, it didn't stick. It was hard to separate my memories and discern what was real and what wasn't. I couldn't tell what feelings and emotions I should be experiencing. Should I love the man sitting on the bed, stroking my hand, or should I hate him? I had never been so confused.
"So," Liam began. "It's still reasonably early. If you want I can call for room service and—"
"Actually," I cut in. The dichotomy between me hating the sound of his voice and loving it was strong. "I don't feel amazing. I think I might just go to sleep. Do you mind?"
"Not at all," he said, looking concerned. "If there is anything you need—"
"No, it's fine," I said quickly. Then, before he had a chance to say anything else I rolled over and closed my eyes.
But I didn't sleep, not really anyway. There was no way that I was going to be able to. As I lay in bed with my eyes closed, more and more memories came back to me, and I was able to better separate them in my mind. As they became clearer, I was able to better comprehend what Liam had done.
The moment it hit me, I felt physically ill. This was only compounded by the fact that he currently lay beside me with his arm draped over my body. It felt alien, not like that of the man I thought I loved. The man that I did love.
For I did love him. Or at least I thought that I did. But how could I now? After what he had done. He had used my amnesia to take advantage of me and date me again.
It was disgusting. Not only was it totally dishonest, but it was tantamount to emotional abuse. He told me that he loved me, but how could he? How could you do that to someone you loved?
The hate built and swirled inside of me, and memories of how I used to feel about him came back to me stronger and stronger. But I couldn’t get the new feelings out of my mind. The ones where I loved him. The ones where he had changed, and he had become everything to me. He had been so good to me the last few weeks, helping me to become a better person. But it was all under false pretenses.
I felt torn in a million directions. Why couldn’t he just have been honest with me in the first place?
I didn't know what to do. A part of me wanted to stay with him. My life was meaningless without him. I had no job and no prospects. He gave me stability and a purpose. But at the same time, I knew that I couldn't do it. There was something inherently sick about it.
He was the reason that my life was the way it was. I remembered it all now. After he had crushed me the first time, everything fell apart for me. I stopped going to work and was eventually fired. I stopped talking to my friends, and they eventually stopped talking to me, too.
I stopped writing and abandoned it as a pipe dream. It was then that I got the waitress job and moved into that crappy apartment. It was all his fault.
I slept maybe an hour that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I remembered the good and the bad. The more I remembered, the more that the good morphed into the bad. Any way that I wanted to look at it or tried to spin it, what Liam had done was wrong. There was no going back.
I woke before he did the next morning, having not really slept. I turned around, looking into the face of the man that had taken advantage of me. Although I didn't doubt his new feelings for me, for I felt those, too, I also knew that there was just no way that I could forgive him for what he had done to me. I knew that I was going to have to end it.
It was a painfully awkward morning as the two of us got ready to leave. I tried to stay busy the whole time, never wanting to give him an excuse to kiss me or try and have sex with me. I feared that he would try and force himself on me, and then, I would have no choice but to confront him. I was going to break up with him, but it was going to happen when we were back in New York, back where I could distance myself from him immediately.
All that meant was that I had to act as normal as I could all morning. When he woke up, he asked if I wanted to go out for breakfast. I told him no, that I would rather just eat in the room. He ordered room service. While we waited, he tried to kiss me, and I knew what was on his mind. To counter this, I broke into a coughing fit, feigning an oncoming sickness. I told him my head hurt and my stomach ached. Anything to keep him away from me.
He kept his distance after that. But even as he did, he still made sure that I was feeling okay. He went for a drive to the pharmacy to buy some pain killers. He asked room service for some lemon tea. He did everything that a good boyfriend should do when their girlfriend was sick.
I think that was what hurt the most. I knew how much he cared for me. I knew that despite his sickening actions, his heart was most likely in the right place. But even knowing this, even knowing how hurt he was sure to be, I had no choice. What he had done was unforgivable.
And so, after a very slow and awkward morning, the two of us packed our things and made our way toward the car. I continued the charade of being sick. He carried my bags and made sure that I was comfortable as I climbed in the back seat. I was adamant about not sitting in the front.
As we pulled away from the log cabin, I wondered what he was thinking. Surely, the weekend hadn't gone to plan. Surely, he did not expect us to be heading home in such a dire mood. But then again, he hadn't banked on my memory coming back either. How long had he planned on lying to me? How long was he going to keep me in the dark? Did he hope that I would never remember? Was he really that naive?
They were questions that would never be answered. As soon as we got home, I was going to break up with him. I didn't know what I was going to do or what I was going to say. I only knew that I had to end it. I couldn't be around him anymore.