Forgetting You

I was terrified that if that wall broke I would collapse right along with it.

A shout followed by a feminine scream snapped my eyes open. I jolted as my eyes sought out the source of the commotion, and I locked my gaze on the entrance to the flat building. A few people were rushing out of the double doors, almost trampling over one another to get outside, and it caused me to jump out of my car in a panic.

“What’s wrong?” I shouted, rushing forward. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Fire,” a man coughed, waving his hand in front of his face. “Fourth floor. It’s bad. There are dozens of families in this building, lots of elderly too!”

I widened my eyes. “Call 999. Now!”

Without another word, thought or a second’s hesitation, I took off sprinting towards the building. I shoved my way through the crowd of people who were pouring out of the doors clutching their children, loose belongings, pets and their sanity, as the sound of the building’s fire alarms reached my ears. Nothing else mattered to me in that moment, other than getting to Noah and bringing her to safety.

Nothing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

NOAH

When I opened my eyes and found Anderson practically in my face, I flinched. I stared at him with slowly blinking eyes for a long moment. He was silently staring at me, as if waiting for me to do something. I tried to gather my thoughts but couldn’t.

“What?” I rasped. “What happened?”

My head was sore, but only slightly. There was a heavy pressure on my wrists and hands that made me feel uncomfortable. I tried to move my arms but found I couldn’t. They were behind my back and bound together. Confusion swirled in my jumbled brain. My mind felt hazy, like I couldn’t straighten anything out to form a coherent thought.

“You were only out for a few minutes,” Anderson answered with a tilt of his head. “That’s surprising. You said that morphine knocks you out for hours.”

His words made no sense to me.

“Anderson.” I struggled against the material tied around my wrists and feet. My boot had been removed and I couldn’t see it anywhere. “What is this? Untie me.”

I looked to my left and right as he straightened to his full height, crossed the room to the dining table and sat in front of a plate full of food and a wine glass that was filled to the top. I realised that I was on the floor in a sitting position, with my back resting against the base of the sofa. I leaned my head back and groaned. I hated how fuzzy my mind was; it reminded me of being in the hospital when I was given medicine to kill my pain.

“Anderson.” I swallowed, my throat dry as a desert. “I can’t think.”

“You don’t have to think,” he answered. “I’ll do that for you.”

I looked at him and frowned. “What?”

“Things are going to go back to the way they were,” he said as he cut up his food with his knife and fork. “I promise.”

I struggled against my bindings.

“Let me go!” I demanded. “What are you doing?”

He paused and glanced at me. “You know better than to raise your voice at me, woman.”

I most definitely did not know better. Had he forgotten I didn’t know anything about him?

“I’m so confused,” I said, clearing my throat. “Did I collapse?”

“No,” Anderson answered as he picked up his wine glass. “I drugged you, but before you fell asleep you tried to leave so I hit you. I had to protect you from yourself, so I did what I had to do.”

I heard every single astonishing word he said and repeated them twice in my head. I stared at him as he calmly drank some wine, then went back to eating his food like he hadn’t just said the most insane thing I had ever heard another person say. I looked straight ahead as I tried to process what I was hearing. I closed my eyes to think, and suddenly the memory of the night of the crash, of Bailey’s death, resurfaced and my body jolted.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“I remember.”

The cutlery Anderson was using clanked against his plate, and within seconds I found him on his knees in front of me. His hands touched my shoulders and his fingers bit into my flesh painfully. His eyes looked wild as his gaze drilled into mine.

“What d’you remember?”

My eyes burned with tears.

“I was leaving you . . . that night . . . I was leaving you.”

My husband blinked, sat back on his heels and sighed, long and deep.

“You weren’t leaving me,” he said, his dark eyes still boring into me. “You were just confused; you’d never leave me.”

I was about to disagree with him, but fear made me hold my tongue. I couldn’t remember everything about my life with this man, I could just remember the night he ruined mine and I knew it was enough for me to watch what I said to him. Anderson . . . he was abusive towards me. He’d beaten me, controlled me . . . and tried to kill me.