She was lying on the sofa. In an awkward position, the candles were lit. The tray was in front of her but he wasn't there. She was alone. So alone. No one was there. No one. She managed to sit though her head was aching and she felt dizzy. Her vision was also blurred. She couldn't remember anything for a moment. But it didn't sound strange to her. She was not in a fix. Her head was aching so severely that she could not think of anything. That dizziness also couldn't let her stand. She gathered her strength for many minutes but as soon as it gathered it was again lost.
Suddenly, the pain stopped. The dizziness which surrounded her vanished. The only thing that was left was emptiness. She couldn't remember anything. Not even her name, where she was, who she was. Nothing. Along with the emptiness, fear arrived. The door was open and the maid entered. She was also astonished to see Ophelia in that condition. It was clearly visible that she had lost her sanity. "Miss Whitlock" she ran towards her and shook her but Ophelia was somewhere else. "Miss Whitlock. Miss Whitlock" the maid was so tensed.
"Miss Ophelia" she shouted.
This was it. She came back and whispered absentmindedly "Ophelia, Ophelia, Ophelia…" "I am Ophelia" "I am Ophelia?" "Miss…Miss" "What is wrong with you?" "I am fine, Sara. I am fine". The maid felt a bit relaxed to hear her name. "I am Ophelia" whispering this she stood up and went outside. The moment she stepped outside the world again went black and she fainted. The maid hurried toward her.
A whole day passed and she was unconscious, lying in her bed. When her eyes opened again there was no pain no dizziness this time. The maid was with her all this time, she couldn't leave her in that condition. She also told Thomas about her but he showed no reaction and continued his life as usual. "Give me some water, Sara" she demanded and sat. She handed her a glass full of water. Ophelia gulped it down and took a deep breath afterward. When she turned to put the glass on her bedside table her diary caught her attention. She felt almost strange about it, no feelings were involved in her seeing that, unlike always. "Where is father?" she asked with eyes still fixed on the diary. "He is at work, not currently at home" "Oh" the maid narrowed her eyes to see Ophelia's expressionless face. As long as she remembered Ophelia always smiled or showed any such expression whenever she looked at her diary. "Whose diary is this?" she asked again. The maid was now convinced that Ophelia was not in her senses. "This is yours, Miss Whitlock" she managed to say. "Mine" she took it in her hands but the world started to spin so fast that she lost hold of it and covered her head in her hands. To lower the effect of spinning along with everything.
"uhhhh…uhhhh…uh" she moaned in pain and again fainted.
It was nighttime now. Thomas arrived home and the maid told him everything that happened the strange behavior shown by Ophelia, everything. He listened to her and went to see Ophelia. He sat on the chair beside Ophelia's bed and waited for her to wake up. After almost an hour she woke. Their eyes locked.
Suddenly, she sat in an upright position which left Thomas shocked. Because he was told that she is sick in some strange way and yet this gesture shown by her, so active, was contradicting the maid's words.
"Ophelia," he said. Her eyes flowed with streams of water.
"You did this to me right, what did I do to you?" she pleaded in agony. "What are you talking about dear?"
"Don't you dare call me that. You have taken my life. My everything. I have no memories". "Which memories?" "Don't say it as casually, I know that I don't remember things that were very precious to me. My life was based on them. I know for certain. You stole them. You erased my memories. That's why you came yesterday with a tray of tea in your hands to watch me in pain. To watch me as I lose my memories little by little. How did you erase them? How evil can you be, more? What will you do to me next? Tell me so I can prepare for the next disaster that will strike my way and the striker will be you as always. Tell me?" she gulped a knot in her throat.
Thomas was lost for words. It was opposite to what he had expected. Now he regretted having given her that magical liquid. (So, this was the side effect. You damn idiot. It is not as meaningless as you had told me. But how is this possible that a person, a victim of memory loss knows exactly that the things he cannot remember were precious to him? That it was all he had as an asset?) he thought.
"Tell me, tell me?" she moaned in pain but he left the room.