"I'm sorry, but you left me no choice," Otim said, his voice calm yet unwavering as he injected the drug into Mark's veins.
Mark thrashed weakly against the restraints, his breath ragged, his mind racing. "What the hell are you doing to me?" he demanded, his voice laced with desperation.
Otim sighed, shaking his head as he placed the empty syringe on the metal tray beside him. "Relax, Mark. I promise you'll be fine. I'm a trained doctor. I know exactly what I'm doing."
Mark's eyes flickered toward the small glass vial from which Otim had drawn the drug. The bold, clinical lettering on the label sent a wave of panic through him.
"Propofol? What the hell is propofol?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Otim met his gaze evenly. "It's just a sedative. And in this case, it will help you forget—temporarily, of course—until I can sort out this whole mess."
Mark clenched his jaw, his mind screaming at him to fight, but his body was already betraying him, his limbs heavy, his vision blurring. "You want me to forget all this? How dare you?" he growled, struggling against the fading strength in his muscles.
Otim leaned closer, his expression unreadable. "You left me no choice. If you remembered everything, you'd only make things harder for yourself. This way, you can go home, live your life without obsessing over things beyond your control."
Mark wanted to curse him, to thrash and resist, but his body was sinking, his mind slipping into the darkness like a boat drifting from shore. The last thing he saw was Otim's face, strangely serene before sleep overtook him.
Days passed and eventually, weeks later, Dr. Otim's drug was working. Slowly but surely, Mark's memories began to erode, fading like ink washed away by the tide. At first, it was subtle—minor lapses, misplaced thoughts—but soon, the gaps in his mind became chasms he couldn't ignore.
There were mornings he woke up staring at the ceiling, his heart hammering, unable to remember where he was. "Where…where am I?" he would murmur, his voice thick with confusion.
Otim would watch him with careful patience, his expression always composed. "You're safe, Mark. You just need rest."
Other times, Mark would blink at Otim, eyes clouded with uncertainty. "Who…who are you?" he'd ask, and the words would feel foreign on his tongue, like he should know the answer but couldn't grasp it.
Each time, Otim would smile—warm but clinical. "I'm a friend, Mark. Just focus on getting better."
Some nights, the memories clawed their way back, flickering like dying embers in Mark's mind. He would jolt awake in a cold sweat, flashes of something—someone—dancing just beyond his reach. He would clutch his head, frustration seeping through the cracks of his fractured consciousness.
"Something's wrong with me," he muttered once, gripping the edge of his blanket. "I keep forgetting things. I keep…losing time."
Otim sat beside him, his tone as steady as ever. "It's nothing to worry about, Mark. In time, everything will feel normal again."
But Mark wasn't sure what 'normal' even meant anymore.
-------------
Weeks Earlier.
The dining table was alive with chatter and laughter, as it always was during breakfast at the Bendilani household. Dad sat at the head of the table, his newspaper folded neatly beside his plate. Monica was sipping her tea, her eyes scanning the room with that quiet, watchful gaze of hers. Emily and Jacqueline were in the middle of a heated debate about something trivial, while Jerry was sneakily feeding bits of toast to the dog under the table. And then there was me, Dorcas, the ever-observant, soaking it all in.
"Where's Mark?" Dad asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the noise. "He's usually the first one down for breakfast."
The table fell silent for a moment, everyone glancing around as if Mark might magically appear. Emily was the first to speak, her tone teasing. "Maybe he couldn't wait to get to work. You know, to see Anushka."
Dad raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely confused. "Anushka? Who's that?"
I couldn't resist jumping in, my voice dripping with mischief. "Oh, she's Mark's… special friend. You know, my future big sister-in-law."
The table erupted into laughter, even Monica cracking a small smile. Dad shook his head, clearly amused but still a little lost. "Alright, alright. Enough teasing. Let's just hope he's not skipping breakfast entirely."
The conversation moved on, but I couldn't help noticing the way Jacqueline's eyes lingered on the empty chair where Mark usually sat. She didn't say anything, though, and neither did anyone else.
---
At the office, Anushka was busy at her desk, her eyes glued to her screens as she worked through lines of code. She'd been there since early morning, her mind racing with thoughts of Mark and the investigation. But as the hours ticked by, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Mark hadn't shown up yet, and that wasn't like him.
The door creaked open, and Anushka's heart leaped for a moment—until she saw it was Emily. She tried to hide her disappointment, forcing a smile as Emily walked in.
"Hey, Ruhi," Emily said, her tone playful. "Busy as always, I see."
Anushka chuckled, leaning back in her chair. "Someone's got to keep this place running. What brings you here?"
Emily shrugged, her expression casual. "Just checking in. Have you seen Mark? He wasn't at breakfast, and Dad's starting to worry."
Anushka's smile faltered. "Mark? I thought he was still at home. He hasn't been here all morning."
Emily frowned, her playful demeanor fading. "That's weird. He's usually the first one in."
Anushka's mind raced as she turned back to her computer, her fingers flying across the keyboard. "Let me check something." She pulled up the tracking software she'd installed on Mark's phone, but the screen showed nothing—no signal, no location, just a blank map.
"That's strange," Anushka muttered, her brow furrowing. "His phone's untrackable right now. The last ping was here at the office… yesterday."
Emily leaned over her shoulder, her expression growing more serious. "Maybe his battery died. Or he forgot it somewhere."
Anushka nodded, though she didn't look convinced. "Yeah, maybe. Let's give it some time. He's probably just… busy."
Emily hesitated, then shrugged. "Alright. But if he doesn't show up by this afternoon, let me know."
Anushka forced a smile. "Will do."
---
By evening, there was still no sign of Mark. Anushka sat in her apartment, her laptop open in front of her, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't focus, couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Finally, she picked up her phone and called Emily.
"Hey," Emily answered, her voice cheerful. "What's up?"
"Have you heard from Mark?" Anushka asked, trying to keep her voice calm. " Is he still not back, I… I'm starting to get worried."
There was a pause on the other end, and when Emily spoke again, her tone was more serious. "No, I haven't. I thought he might've gone home early, but Dad says he's not there either."
Anushka's heart sank, her mind racing with possibilities. "This isn't like him, Emily. He wouldn't just disappear like this."
Emily sighed, her voice softening. "I know. Look, let's not panic yet. Maybe he's just… I don't know, taking some time for himself. He's been under a lot of stress lately."
Anushka nodded, though she didn't feel reassured. "Yeah, maybe. But if he doesn't show up by tomorrow, we need to do something."
"Agreed," Emily said. "Try not to worry too much, okay? We'll figure this out."
Anushka hung up the phone, her hands trembling slightly. She didn't know why she was feeling this way—why the thought of Mark being missing was sending her into a panic. They were just colleagues, right? Friends, maybe. But this… this felt different.
She sat there for a long time, staring at her phone, willing it to ring. But it didn't. And as the hours passed, her worry only grew.