She has been trying to break from this haze that has been clouding her brain, her memory. She couldn't remember anything from the time before she opened her eyes in the unfamiliar hospital room.
The nurse walked in on her hitting her temples with her knuckles when she first woke up. She was trying to remember, to pierce through this barrier that's stopping her from knowing what happened.
They addressed her as Maine. Somehow, she felt okay with it, so she guessed that really is her name. Apart from her necklace, there were no other paraphernalia found on her.
She wanted to move around but she cannot. She was still bed-ridden because of her dextrose and cast.
On the second day, she tried to slit her wrist. They changed her utensils to just a plastic spoon and cup, not providing her with even a fork, especially a knife.
On the third day, they kept her sedated after she tried to remove her IV to use the needle to pierce her neck. Good thing the hospital was now using the plastic type of needle for the IV so she wasn't hurt.
She woke up at dusk of the fourth day. That was when she attacked Richard.
To hear him offer her a place in his home made her feel more scared for him than for herself. She doesn't know what she is capable of doing but she senses a danger surrounding her which always resulted to her violent panic attacks.
But she didn't have any choice. She didn't have anywhere to go nor could she recall any bit of information about herself.
She was quiet the whole ride to Richard's house. He told her she'd have a private nurse who'll be attending to her during daytime until her cast is removed. She was given the room across his so he could easily attend to her come her panic attacks at night. This is too much help for a stranger. She is too dangerous and he is way too kind. She has to force herself to remember. Fast.
---
First week in his house, he was only in the periphery just observing her while the nurse attended to her, probably still scared after her unexpected attack on him. She could feel his eyes on her though. Maine would have liked to speak with him but she was still afraid for his well-being. They would just steal glances from each other and somehow that was enough.
Week two, he mustered enough courage to ask how she was doing. The pleasantries turned to long talks that by week four, they were comfortably swapping comments on whatever's good on TV. At first, they tried to skirt around the personal topics but for two people who lived under the same roof day in and day out, they'd eventually lose things to talk about and delve into the personals.
She didn't have much to share. How could she when she couldn't even remember her name? However, both of them possess frayed emotions, one having lost his loved ones and is now left alone in the world, the other having lost her identity altogether.
Talks turned to touches. Touches turned to hugs. The intimacies became normal.
One day of her fifth week of living with him, she was distressed. Something caught her attention on the television as she passed by the living room to go to the kitchen. She had to hold on to the back of a chair, her mind racing trying to catch the memory that was elusive.
In an instant, he was next to her, his arms going around her. Their faces were too close, she could feel his breath on her. Once the dizziness had passed, she twisted her position and pulled his nape down, touching her lips to his. In her mind she thought, I need this to remind me that I am still alive, that I am still entitled to feel and to be in control.
She intended for it to just be a short kiss but her traitorous body beat her to it. Her hands pulled him nearer, deepening the contact until she felt him responding. Her tongue snaked out of her mouth, licking his lower lip to coax him to open his. That was when he held back, abruptly ending the contact.
Richard tried to keep away from her after that, explaining that he did not want to complicate her life further if he acted on what he was feeling. So they reverted back to how they were on day one, with just covert looks and stolen glances and the occasional nod when they pass by each other anywhere in the house. They could feel the sexual tension that was very palpable but they chose to ignore and fight it.
Days passed and her body healed nicely that she didn't need a nurse a month after her discharge from the hospital. Her cast had been removed too. While Richard locked himself in his home office to attend to business, she took care of the household chores. She surmised that she could probably repay him for his help by taking care of the house.
With this normalcy, Maine experimented by lessening the dosage of her anxiety medication. This turned out to be a bad decision.
Her panic attacks became more frequent and more violent. She kept them as secrets from Richard though by muffling her cries, screaming into her pillow.
---
She woke up through the sound of thunder outside, the flashes of lightning throwing malevolent figures into sharp focus on her bedroom wall. She waited for her eyes to adjust to her surroundings, her breathing quick and shallow.
Gingerly, she turned the lock on her door, stopping to stare at the door in front of hers. She raked her gaze over the rest of the hallway. There were more doors along it and something is lurking behind them, waiting for her.
Opening the back door, she was assaulted by the cold wind brought on by the rain. She groped her way through the house slowly until she reached the kitchen. Through the cobwebs in her brain, she tried to recall where the utensils were kept. Finally, her hand found what she was looking for, positioning the knife's rubber grip in her hand, her arm poised to swing it in an arc anytime.
She walked back to the corridor, pausing at every door and finally stopping at the door opposite hers. She raised her arm holding the knife but she felt no evil inside it. She walked back to her room and placed the knife underneath her pillow. She smoothed the bed sheets and went back to sleep. There, she should be ready when the monster attacks.
