Your Addiction, Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

The blindness of your heart

[a/n] What did I just write 😃

(TV Girl - Cigarettes out the Window (instrumental) fits this chapter)

...

"Your name?"

"No"

"Your surname?"

"No..."

"Your family?"

"Nothing..."

The doctor looked concerned and asked again.

"Are you sure there's nothing you remember?"

"Nothing" I whispered as I shook my head.

"Look at your forearm" She ordered.

I took a deep breath as I rolled up my sleeve and exposed the arm. There, on my forearm, someone's initials were carved into my skin.

"Still can't remember anything?"

I didn't respond as I had no idea what it meant.

"S and R, those are your initials" The doctor explained and walked closer to my bed.

"You are Skye Reston, like it or not, you were and still are a soldier"

"I can see..." I commented, noticing the old scars all over my arms.

The doctor looked up from her papers and met my gaze.

"You suffered a head injury during the battle, which resulted in memory loss. You have been in a coma for the past five months, and we weren't sure if you would make it"

I nodded, feeling both lost and confused. I had no idea how to respond to what she said so I sat there quietly, waiting for this hell to be over.

"Will I ever remember my past?" I could feel tears form in the corners of my eyes.

"I'm afraid not"

"So what do I do now?"

"Rest and recover. You will soon be needed on the field" A slight smile appeared on her face, but her eyes were emotionless.

As I sat there lost in thought, I couldn't help but wonder who I was and what my life was like before the injury. My head was spinning with questions, but I knew the doctor wouldn't have any answers. So I sat there in silence, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of what the doctor had just told me.

I was a soldier, but I couldn't remember anything. The idea of being in the military both scared and intrigued me.

But I couldn't help feeling heartbroken at the thought of never being able to figure out who I really was.

...

2 years later

...

24 months, 730 days, 17,520 hours.

Time didn't bring me closer to remembering my past. It only made the pain of not knowing more unbearable.

I would wake up every day with the same emptiness in my heart, feeling lost and disconnected from the world around me.

It was like I was living in a world that was not meant for me.

I would walk down the streets, hoping someone would recognize me or trigger a memory. But every face I saw was a stranger's, and every place I visited was unfamiliar.

I would spend hours in the park, watching people go about their lives, wondering if I had ever met them before. But every conversation was meaningless, every smile was just a passing glance.

I felt like an outsider in a world I was supposed to be a part of.

It was like I was living in a parallel universe, where everything was the same, but nothing felt right.

At night, I would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, and wondering what my life was like before the injury. I couldn't remember my family or friends. It was like a part of me was missing, and I didn't know how to fill that void.

I felt like a shell of a person, so hollow, so empty.

It was like I was living in someone else's body, someone else's life.

There were times when I couldn't help but question my reasons for being a soldier. Was it because I was foolish and naive, or was it a desperate attempt to escape my true self? I had no answers, just endless questions that consumed my thoughts.

Sometimes, I would try to force myself to remember, to piece together fragments of memories, but it was of no use. It seemed like the harder I tried, the more distant they became.

It was like trying to grab hold of a cloud, impossible and frustrating.

But the only thing that remained constant was my training. I was still a soldier, still trained to fight, trained to kill, but I couldn't remember why.

Shortly after I recovered I was introduced to my team. The team I imagined I was in before all of that happened.

But since they were part of a secret terrorist group, I couldn't believe that I was the 'bad guy', that I was the villain in this story. I was hesitant to continue working for them but at the same time, I knew I had no other choice.

If I had been an example of cruelty before the injury, then I thought it was something I was meant to be.

Someone I once chose to be.

But as time went by, the pain didn't go away. It only became more intense, like a wound that refused to heal.

The only thing that gave me comfort was my routine. I would wake up, go to the gym, and train for hours on end. Physical exertion helped me forget. But even that wasn't enough as the emptiness in my heart remained.

I had no one and everyone would treat me with a mixture of pity and respect as if I was a hero who had lost her way.

But I didn't feel like a hero. I felt like a lost soul, wandering through life without a purpose. I tried to fill the void with alcohol and drugs, but that only made me feel worse.

Though I felt alive when I was on the missions. The rush of adrenaline, the sound of gunfire, and the chaos of battle was the only thing that made sense to me. It was like I was in my element, doing what I was trained to do.

But even that was fleeting.

Sometimes, I would look up at the moon and the stars, hoping that they would somehow guide me to my past. But each time, I was met with the same empty feeling of not knowing who I really was.

However, deep in my heart, I knew someone was out there. Someone who I deeply loved before my memory loss. I could feel it, like an ache in my chest, a constant reminder of what I had lost.

And I would always try to recreate the moments we might have shared in my mind. I would imagine us walking hand in hand, laughing at each other's jokes, and staring into each other's eyes.

But the details were always hazy, and I couldn't tell if it was a real memory or a figment of my imagination.

The more I thought about it, the more I felt like I was chasing after a ghost.

It was hard to let go of that glimmer of hope, the hope that maybe one day, I would run into them on the street or that they would somehow find their way back to me.

Every day was the same.

And every day I would think.

How can I remember if there is no past?

How can I find an answer if there is no exact question?