Let’s work backwards

TW: abuse, violence

Amnesia. That’s what I was diagnosed with once I woke up from my 3-month coma. The doctor reassured me that it would take some time for my memories to come back however they didn’t expect me to completely forget who I was as well. When they asked me my name it was so frustrating not being able to answer. It was on the tip of my tongue, yet I just couldn’t remember. The FBI was assigned to look after me because it was them who found me. And weirdly enough there was no trace of me in any database. Now that I was awake, they could only go on the fact that I had a British accent which didn’t solve any mysteries. Although I am thankful, I’m not a criminal, it would have been absolutely appalling if I had woken up just to go to jail.

A lovely lady named Sasha took me home since I had no recollection of any family. Technically I was skint too, the personal items from the hospital only contained an iPhone 6s, a packet of gum, a hair tie and $150. Sasha told me about when I bought into the hospital. I was beaten up badly, bruises all over my stomach, a couple broken ribs, a busted lip and cuts all over my body. The wound on my head needed 23 stitches. My body was dehydrated as fuck and I was (still am a little) malnourished. The FBI suspected that I was held captive before they found me unconscious in one of their old safe houses. So here we are now, trying to remember as much as I can to solve the mystery of my identity and what happened to me.

A man with a scar across his right cheek grabbed my hair clenching it tightly as he lifted me to my feet.

“I swear to God, I’ll kill you now bitch. You think you can try to escape Amara? Huh? I’ll show you exactly who you belong to puttana.”

His hands grabbed my throat and bashed my head into the concrete floor. An audible crack could be heard; a sticky substance trickled down my face, but the pain was too high for me to notice it. My captor’s dark murderous eyes stared into my soul as he continuously punched my stomach. The man dragged my body to the metal table in the room and snatched up the dull knife from the medical table beside it. His maniac gaze stared straight at me intent on slashing lines all over my body. I didn’t have the energy to cry but the knife cutting into my thighs wretched an ear-shattering scream out from my mouth. Tears leaked out of my eyes, I pleaded Marco to stop–

A gasp escaped my mouth and I shot up from the bed. Sasha, the poor thing, ran into the room with a gun clutched in her hand.

“Oh, sweetie what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Before I could free her from her worries, I ran into the bathroom and heaved anything I had in my stomach.

“I’m so sorry Sasha for worrying you. I just had a flashback. I was being tortured by my captor because I tried to escape. He- he was cutting into my skin with a knife while I pleaded for him to stop.” I sobbed out while laying my head on the toilet seat. It was so terrible being in that room.

“Oh, babe I’m so sorry.”

“Amara.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My name, I think my name is Amara.”

I don’t remember Sasha’s reply or getting back into bed, but the next morning I found myself warm under the duvet. Sasha was talking to her boss from the sound of it to tell them about my identity, well the first part of my name anyways. While on call she handed me a tray with some food on it signalling me to eat and get dressed. We were going to go to the FBI headquarters so that I could work with a psychologist and tell them about my flashback. God this whole situation is so messed up, why can’t I remember?

Sasha and I arrive at the FBI with Dr Kate waiting for me. She leads me into her office, and we talk about my flashback. Her whole aura was so welcoming and warm, I felt comfortable enough to tell her about my flashback.

“I was dragged into the basement and he was choking me. He smashed my head into the concrete and from what I remember used a dull knife to cut into me like a butcher. It was only him in the room, he punched my abdomen area. He also called me Amara, so I’m guessing that’s my name. I’m sorry, that’s all I can remember.”

She nodded her head, jotted down everything and asked it I could describe him at all. Turns out she was a very talented artist too.

“He had dark brown eyes, dirty brown hair and was about a head taller than me. When he lifted me up, I only came to his shoulders. He had a strong jawline; quite high cheekbones and I’m pretty sure had an Italian accent. Oh, and there was a scar across his right cheek.”

I hesitate before I tell her his name. I know it’s stupid, but I fear that the moment I say his name out loud he’ll pop out of nowhere and make good on his promise of killing me.

“I also know his name, but I don’t want to say it out loud. Can I write it instead?”

“Of course, sweetheart, anything that makes you comfortable.”  And with that she hands me a sticky note and a pen.

During the rest of my time in her office, Dr Kate was so accommodating. She offered me drinks, snacks, and she even played a few board games with me. Before I knew it, time had passed, and I was being escorted to Sasha’s home by some guards. The car passed many local food joints, the beach and also a tattoo shop. I don’t know why the tattoo shop stood out to me so much, but I felt an undeniable pull to it.

“Hey, Amara can you clean up the front, I have to do inventory.” Something seemed off with my boss, he’s never done inventory and not asked me to help. He says it gets done faster with the two of us working together. What is going on?

James saunters off to the back and I decide to follow after a minute or so. Peeking through the curtain, I see a tall man entering through the back door and James looking very nervous. I can’t make out what they’re talking about, but it seems very heated. I barely make out the words money, more time, no and please being thrown between them. I don’t have a good feeling about this, but I carry on watching their interaction. My spine stiffens as I hear the word omertà come out of the tall guy’s mouth. Fuck. The tall guy pulls out a gun with a silencer on it and points it directly at James. He doesn’t hesitate to shoot James point blank between his eyes. A gasp must have escaped my mouth because the tall guy squinted in my direction and walked out of the curtain. I was too stunned to move in his presence. I tried to run but before I could even get past the counter, he hauled me over his shoulder and carried me to his car.

“Are you alright miss?” One of the FBI agents, Tony, asked with a sympathetic look in his eyes.

With tears filling my eyes, I nodded and stared out the window. Washington D.C. in the winter was quite nice. The Capitol building looked so majestic surrounded by snow. Seeing it

“Amara Pierce, I am so lucky to have you in my life. You have taught me so much. You make me want to be a better person and you make me a better person by just being around. You are perfect and so beautiful I get so happy when I remember that you’re all mine. And even though your tastebuds are a little questionable, seriously I don’t understand how you like pineapple on pizza, I love you with all of my heart. So will you make me the happiest man in this universe and be my wife?”

“Oh Max of course I will!”

Max slid the emerald ring onto my finger, and we walked around the Capitol grounds, hand in hand, listening to Christmas songs with Jack Frost certainly nipping at our noses.

Tearing up once again as I enter Sasha’s flat, I miss the life that I once lived. I missed my fiancé and my family but most of all I missed my memories.

Once Sasha returned home, I told her all about my flashbacks and had her record them. I just didn’t want to go back to the FBI again tomorrow no matter how accommodating everyone was. I was exhausted from doing nothing and was pretty dizzy throughout the whole day. The next day was uneventful, I rested at Sasha’s home and she went to work. The day after, I had to go into the FBI because they think they found my identity. Amara Pierce, daughter of Robert and Émeline Pierce. Her parents murdered in an ‘accidental’ break-in only a month before her disappearance. She inherited her parent’s million-dollar fortune even though she was estranged from them. Hearing about it all only worsened my headache especially since I had been reading news articles about my life as soon as I found out my full name. Why is this happening to me? I was happy before; my life was good. So why is this happening now?

The next week went by quick with lots to unpack. I had constant meetings with Dr Kate and was starting to unlock more memories of my previous life. They’d come to me in random bursts triggered by certain places, textures or smells. My favourite memory was when we walked past a hotdog stand, I remembered how much Max loved them. We finished our first ever date with hotdogs.

The week before Christmas, the FBI had informed Max about me. He took exceptional care of me and I moved in with him. That Monday I had a flashback of my parents they day I left them. It was because of my relationship with Max. It felt horrible that I had lost them forever and never got to tell them how much I actually loved them. Tuesday the FBI found Marco’s identity and put out a BOLO. By Wednesday they had gotten multiple tips about him and arrested him for assault and battery, kidnapping, murder of James and the attempted murder of me. The interrogation of him uncovered a lot more information that I expected. Max was in the Italian mafia; James was also in it too and Max was friends with him only to keep an eye on him because he was a rat. Max had hired Marco to kill James unfortunately, I was at the right place at the wrong time, so Marco kidnapped me and tried to kill me too. Max was in a relationship with me because of the money he knew I’d receive after my parent’s death, so he organised that hit too. It was so much to take in that I nearly went into another coma. Thursday morning the FBI interrogated Max and arrested him. It was heartbreaking finding out that the only family I had was the one who had caused all the misfortune in my life. Friday, I went back to my parents' house and cleaned it up, looking through all the memories I made there from my birth to my graduation. It felt nice to truly be home again. To be at my home.

So now it’s Christmas and I’m here in my home working on getting all of my memories back and enjoying Christmas with the new friends that I made.

“Let’s toast. A toast to new beginnings.”