Mature Content: Some readers may find the language used in this chapter offensive. Reader discretion is highly encouraged.
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SUJIN's POV
I could faintly hear the clock ticking as I began to regain consciousness. There was an intense burning in my throat.
I turned to look to gain some sense of where I was.
As I blinked to clear my vision, I realized I was being held down by a blanket and there was something warm holding into my arm, coaxing me into wakefulness.
My entire vision got clearer.
A man was slumped on a chair that was closest to the bed.
The warmth I felt was his hand on my arm, holding on to me as if I was a lifeline.
Who is this man? Where am I?
I must have uttered them out loud as the man stirred in his sleep, frowning, peeking through a tiny crack in his eyelids.
Seeing his hand on my arm, he withdrew them and sat straight on the chair.
"How are you feeling?"
He leaned back on the chair and stretched his legs out, his piercing eyes sorting through me as if trying to learn all my secrets.
Who are you? Where am I?
Sitting down on the bed, my voice croaked, reminding me again how dry and weak my throat was.
His reflective gaze searched my face, even as he reached out to give me a bottle of water sitting on top of the oak desk that was in the room.
"You don't remember me? How and where we met?"
My brows furrowed in curiosity.
Should I? Know you, I mean?
Striking brown eyes as dark as melted chocolate on a cold winter night stared at me.
"You don't know where you are from?"
This man is trying my patience. I expelled my breath in an exasperated sigh.
I rolled my eyes at him. Pursing my lips in annoyance, I said:
You don't answer a question with a question, mister!
Something in my tone made him do a double-take and he scoffed.
Wait! Did he just smirk at me? And are those dimples gracing his chiselled face? I gawked!
Oh my goodness gracious, this stranger is divine in those dimples!
As if realizing that he just did a major slip, he schooled his face into an emotionless expression and in a gruff voice told me:
"How would you know that a question should not be answered by a question when you don't even know your name?"
The question was curt. Mean. It was a bucket of cold water on my feelings.
How would I know if you won't tell me? Why are you so angry at me?
YOU ARE READING
The Memory Keeper
FanfictionHer home and his heartbeat. He is the pen. She is the journal. What happens when two broken souls meet? How can the ebbs and flows of life work in the lives of a man who cannot let go of the past, and a woman who cannot get hold of her memory? Half...
