"For your information, I hate you," I shouted. "And nothing will make me love you, and I love—"
I gasped as my eyes flew open, my breath catching in my throat. Disoriented, I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of my surroundings. The room felt unfamiliar, its dim light and stillness doing little to soothe the unease bubbling inside me. My gaze darted from corner to corner, landing on the familiar figure beside me—Lucy. Her calm presence was a small comfort, like an anchor tethering me to reality, but it did nothing to quiet the pounding in my head. My temples throbbed, each beat a painful reminder of something I couldn't quite grasp.
There was something there, something at the edge of my consciousness, hovering just out of reach. A memory, a thought, a truth— I wasn't sure what, but it was clawing at the surface, desperate to be acknowledged. It felt like standing on the brink of discovery, like the answer was right there, just waiting to unfold before me. Yet every time I reached for it, a wall slammed down, blocking me. The frustration was maddening. Why couldn't I remember? What was hiding in the recesses of my mind, and why did it feel so vital?
I closed my eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever it was, to pull the missing pieces together. But the more I tried, the further it slipped away, like sand sifting through my fingers.
"Lili, are you okay?" Lucy asked, sitting up beside me.
"I'm fine," I mumbled.
I lay back down, hoping that sleep would provide some relief from the gnawing frustration, but it refused to come. The darkness of the room felt suffocating, pressing down on me as my mind raced, circling the same unformed thoughts over and over. The harder I tried to remember, the more elusive the memory became, like a whisper carried away by the wind. Each failed attempt only sharpened the ache in my head, intensifying the discomfort until it felt unbearable.
The hours dragged on, with the quiet stillness of the night offering no distraction. My thoughts were relentless, picking at the edges of my mind like an unsolved puzzle that I couldn't put together. It wasn't just a vague curiosity; it was a desperate need to know, to uncover whatever it was that lay hidden in the fog of my mind. I could almost feel it, just beyond my reach, taunting me with its presence.
As the first light of dawn crept through the curtains, I gave up the fight. My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to rest. Despite the hours of tossing and turning, nothing had come to me. No revelations, no answers—just the dull, persistent headache that pulsed in time with my frustration. The urge to remember hadn't faded with the night; if anything, it was stronger now, an itch I couldn't scratch, a piece of myself that remained frustratingly out of re ach.
...
"Lucy," I called, playing with my food.
"Yes?"
"Can I go back to Garhian?" I asked, glancing up at her.
"Why?"
"I just… I get what you told me, and I believe you, but I can't— I just don't feel comfortable," I explained, knowing she'd understand.
"I thought you'd be swayed by the display," she said, gesturing toward the shelves.
"I have plans for those books," I replied with a cheeky smile.
"Don't go stealing from the king," she said, laughing.
"Sorry, but I fully intend to," I said, laughing along.
"I won't be an accomplice."
"You don't have a choice here, Countess," I shot back.
"I'll talk to His Majesty and get things ready for our departure," she said in a more serious tone.
"Thank you."
"Only if you eat," she added. She had noticed. "What's wrong? You've been distracted all morning," she pointed out.
Is this telepathy? What did I expect from Lucy? I'm like an open book to her. She knows me so well that none of my actions go unnoticed.
"I just…" Should I tell her? No, there's no need to make a fuss about almost recovering my memories. "It's just a slight headache. It'll pass," I said, though even I wasn't convinced by my own words.
"Just try to put something in your stomach. I'll have the physician come to check on you in the meantime," she said. I nodded, obeying her orders.
All day, my mind was elsewhere, consumed by the nagging urge to remember. I tried to focus on other things, but the elusive memories haunted me like shadows, always lurking just beyond my grasp. The feeling from the morning hadn't faded—it was still there, gnawing at me, a constant reminder that something important was slipping through my fingers. It was maddening. I felt like I was on the verge of a breakthrough, but every time I got close, doubt crept in, leaving me uncertain.
By nightfall, I was back in bed, restless and frustrated. I tossed and turned, trying to force the memories to surface, willing them to break free. But it was as if they were locked behind an impenetrable wall, and no amount of effort could tear it down. Each passing moment only deepened my frustration. No matter how hard I tried, nothing came—just the same overwhelming sense of futility. It was useless, and I was trapped in this endless loop of trying and failing to remember.
"This is so frustrating," I complained, staring up at the ceiling. I should remember something. If I really stayed here for two years, why can't I remember? "Callum did this, didn't he?" I asked myself.
Now the questions swirled in my mind like a storm. Why? Why did he take my memories? Why was he keeping me here, trapped in this fog of confusion? Why did he kidnap me in the first place? What did I ever do to deserve this? I didn't know him—at least, not anymore. Who was he? What were his motives? The more I thought about it, the more unsettling it became. Every answer seemed just out of reach, hidden behind the same thick veil that clouded my memories. The uncertainty gnawed at me, filling me with dread. What did he want from me? And how far would he go to keep me in the dark?
"I should probably ask Lucy later," I said to myself. My life is so chaotic.