The Lines Between Us | ✔

|.22.|

September 19th, 1:24 pm,

Bella

We arrived at my supposed dorm a while ago. I mean, it has all my belongings in it, so it must be mine. I have been putting on a show of kindness to make him feel better. He seemed off from the minute I met him. How am I expected to believe he is my soulmate? Back in the hospital, I wanted nothing more than to run out of the room; to escape from the world and the outrageous situations it creates. His face fell when he saw mine, like I wasn't what he expected. Like he didn't even know me. I felt bad that I had that effect on him, and that the kindness I showed to him led to this. The kindness that led to him laying on the end of my bed, fast asleep.

He told me his side of the story. That apparently Liam — my best friend — has attempted to murder me on numerous occasions, including our road trip. The 'fire' Dr. Harrison mentioned was apparently an attempt to kill me. Failed attempt might I add. I don't remember it happening, but just thinking about the possibility makes me sick to my stomach. I don't believe Ashton for a second. I don't recall him ever being in my life, but I do remember Liam. I remember him being my closest friend here. Close enough that I know he would never do something like that. How could I forget my own soulmate?

Most of me desperately wants to trust Liam, but Ash's pure anger towards his story makes it more realistic. But how can I trust someone I have barely known for more than a couple of hours? He said there were multiple attempts. Various times Liam has tried to harm me in some way. Surely I would remember something like that?

Ashton said I couldn't remember because of the Amnesia I attained on the road trip. Why do I remember everyone else here except him? Just sitting here with Ash makes me uncomfortable. So much so, I don't dare close my eyes for a second in case he jumps out on me with a gun. He looks peaceful enough, his face melted against the soft fabric of my bed, hair sprawled out chaotically. It's longer than in the photo Mel showed me on the road trip - like it hasn't been cut for weeks. That's the only thing I recall of him: the photo. The only memory of him. He looks exhausted, which fits well with his story. He claimed he hasn't slept a full night in over a week. There is so much evidence to his tale, but Liam isn't here to defend himself. You can't just listen to one side of the story.

I haven't even been told where he is. Ashton told me that both Liam and Mel attacked and drugged him. It would explain why he was out in the cold all by himself, but not me. No one has given me a sufficient reason why I was outside. Ash said they did the same to me, but I don't remember. I am clueless. 

The doctors told me it was mild - the Amnesia, but surely not being able to remember the majority of events from the past couple of weeks isn't mild. As much as I try to remember, I can't. Only glimpses of pictures if I think hard enough. I can remember a party with Liam, Mel, and Noah. Ash claims to have attended, but as much as I try to imagine him there, he doesn't appear. I don't think he was ever there. I am not so sure if Ash is even real, just a figment of my imagination. It's as though my memories have been specifically moved around so I can only remember Liam. I need to hear his side of things.

Glancing over at Ash, I watch as his chest rises and falls with every breath. He looks happy, like getting me back was the best thing that ever happened to him. Tilting my head away, I slide my legs off the edge of the bed, jumping off and taking care not to make any noise. Before coming here, we went with the two men that found me in the alley- Peter, and Detective Clarkson as I later learned. We followed them to an office after we left the hospital. They interviewed me on all the things I could remember, and returned my phone to me, declaring it was no longer needed for evidence.

I haven't actually had a chance to look at it except for now. When we arrived at my dorm, I put it down and we just talked for a while, until he fell asleep. Stalking over to it, I snatch it off my desk, my nails scratching against the wood. Looking back reflexively, I see his body stir, arms turning over so he is on his side. He looks beautiful. I am not even afraid to say it, he is so handsome. His skin is so clear — dark, and tanned —, his dark brown hair flopping over his head. I fell for his tattoos when he showed me them in the hospital, individually beautiful, coating his skin like chocolate. I can't see his eyes through his closed lids, but when talking to him earlier, I got lost in them. They looked devilish, like the eyes of a snake, but with enough light to love. They are wild - like watching an out-of-control fire increase in temperature and still wanting to walk into it, just to feel the heat. Looking into them makes me want to give all of myself to him, to believe every word he says. But nothing adds up. Why would someone as angelic as him date me?