OLEANDER
I woke up to a face hovering above mine.
Blinking, I stared into a pair of dark brown eyes, locked on mine with unsettling intensity.
Familiar, but I couldn’t place them.
I focused harder, willing the fog in my head to clear.
“You’re awake, Olea,” the man said, his voice snapping me out of the haze.
That voice.
I knew it too.
My eyes darted to the right, then left, then up at the ceiling.
White-painted walls.
Fluorescent lights.
Machines beeped quietly around me.
An IV line trailed from my wrist.
I pushed myself up slowly.
A sharp pain bloomed in my back, and I winced.
“Easy,” the man murmured, his voice low and gruff as he reached forward to steady me.
“Take it slow.”
His hands were warm.
“Are you okay?” he asked again, more gently this time.
“Am I?” I whispered, my brows drawing together.
Something was off.
Something important.
I couldn’t remember what it was, but I knew I’d lost something.
“Where am I?” I murmured, my voice scratchy as pain burned through my throat.
“And why are all these… on me?”
My fingers reached for the IV, but before I could tug it out, his hand stopped mine.
“Don’t.” He touched my hand.
“You need it.”
Need it?
I wasn’t so sure.
His eyes shifted toward someone else in the room—a second man, older, dressed in a white lab coat over black pants, a striped tie knotted at his throat.
The name on his badge read “Dr. Cameron.”
He let out a soft sigh, then stepped forward.
I flinched instinctively when he raised his hand toward me.
He paused, offering a reassuring smile.
“I promise, I won’t hurt you.”
“He won’t,” the first man echoed beside me.
I swallowed hard, then nodded.
I shouldn’t have trusted either of them.
But for some reason, I did—especially the one watching me as if I’d fall apart.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions, Oleander. I need you to answer them as best you can.”
He knew my name.
I gave another slow nod.
“What day is it today?” he asked gently.
“It’s the 25th of October,” I whispered.
“25th of October?” he repeated, exchanging a quick glance with the man against the wall.
Something passed between them, something they didn’t say aloud.
Still, the doctor smiled and continued.
“Can you tell me your name?”
I hesitated.
A part of me didn’t want to say it, didn’t think I should.
But if he already knew, what was the point?
“Oleander Collins.”
“Good.” He ticked something off on the notepad in his hand.
“You’re doing great, Oleander. Now I need you to think carefully about this next one.”
I nodded once.
“Do you know who this is?” He motioned toward the guy leaning against the wall.
I frowned, eyes drifting to him.
Our gazes locked.
There was something intense in his stare, something unreadable.
“Should I know him?” I asked.
“No,” Dr. Cameron replied quickly.
“Absolutely not. I’m just curious if you’ve ever seen him before.”
“No,” I said flatly.
“I haven’t.”
And I would’ve remembered.
His face was too striking and rugged to be easily forgotten.
His eyes narrowed slightly, but I looked away, turning back to the doctor.
“One last question, Oleander,” he murmured.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Returning home after a jog. I hit my head pretty badly on the wall due to poor lighting in my room,” I winced, rubbing the back of my neck where I expected a bump.
There was nothing, but the memory of the pain lingered.
“I see,” Doctor Cameron mumbled as he rose to his feet.
“What’s going on?” the other man asked, pushing off the wall.
“Why is she acting like this?”
“She’s experiencing memory loss,” Dr. Cameron explained.
“Likely from the trauma she endured. Her body and mind went through severe stress. The brain sometimes suppresses painful memories to protect itself.”
“Memory loss?” I echoed, frowning.
I shifted on the bed, eyes fixed on him, but he wasn’t looking at me anymore.
“How long will it last?” the man asked in a tight voice.
“It’s usually temporary,” Dr. Cameron replied. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“But recovery takes time. Days, weeks, sometimes longer. It depends.”
“Fuck,” the man muttered under his breath.
His hands balled into fists at his sides.
“I should’ve hit him when I had the chance.”
“But you can’t,” Dr. Cameron said.
“Why not?”
“Because you can’t.” His tone was clipped.
“She’s just a girl. Not your concern. He owns her now. He can do whatever he wants with her.”
“Um,” I mumbled, then cleared my throat louder.
“Hi. Still here. Pretty sure I’m the one you’re talking about, so maybe I deserve to know what the hell is going on?”
I was the one lying in a hospital bed, wired up and sore, yet somehow, I was being spoken over like a prop in my own life.
Dr. Cameron turned to me, plastering on a polite smile.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head. Just sit tight, okay?”
Then, without another word, he grabbed the other guy’s arm and started dragging him out of the room.
I scoffed.
Sit tight?
Like I was lounging in my living room?
How could he say that so casually when I had no clue where I was or what had happened to me?
I gazed at the door as it clicked shut.
Now, I was alone in the room, but I wasn’t sure for how long.
Another hour passed.
The sterile white walls grew colder, more suffocating by the second—no mystery guy, no doctor Cameron.
I was starting to think I’d be stuck in this place indefinitely when the door finally opened.
A girl stood there, maybe my age or younger.
Her dark eyes flicked around the room before landing on me.
She let a blue duffel bag slide off her shoulder and hit the floor with a thud.
“Hi,” she chirped, her voice unusually high-pitched, eyes twinkling with an excitement that felt off.
I arched a brow, already on edge.
Before I could ask who she was, she tossed her hands in the air and grinned like we were old friends.
“I’m here to babysit again. Yay!” she announced, though the grin didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Babysit?
“So,” she continued, tilting her head and tapping her chin thoughtfully, “what are we going to do today? I was thinking we could squeeze in some fun before Dante gets back. Maybe hiking, although he’ll probably kill me. But hey, I’m doing him a favor, right? Taking out the trash.”
I blinked at her, startled.
“Who… are you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
She gasped, clutching her chest as if I’d just slapped her.
“Me? That’s rude. But I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that.”
“I—” I started, but she cut me off with a sing-song voice.
“Hiking it is!” She clapped her hands together like we were planning a picnic.
“Come on, let’s go make this the adventure of our lives.”
Right.
An adventure.
Only it felt like she was about to lead me to my death with a smile on her face.