After a terrible accident, Gemma is left with no memory of the first twenty years of her life and nobody to turn to who can help her remember. When she loses her job, Gemma sets out on an adventure to find something worth living for. What she doesn'...
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THERE ARE TWO things I know. One: I want to know more. Two: Audrick cannot— I repeat, cannot— catch me with this picture. He must remain none the wiser of my knowledge that it exists.
Adrenaline is a dangerous fuel, and it's what I'm currently running on. So, even though I know it's risky, I rush to the other side of Audrick's desk to search for more— more of what, I'm not sure. More information, more hints, more photographs... anything will suffice. There must be more clues here about me, about who I was. About the me who Audrick obviously knew well.
And I intend to find them.
The desk has three drawers layered on top of each other. I open the first, but it's filled with stationary. Knowing I need to hurry, I shove it closed as quietly and quickly as possible and pull open the second door, where I strike gold. Jackpot.
Scattered on top of a stack of notebooks, I find two more photos. The one on top was taken the same time as the first one I found, the settings and our attire identical. Except instead of posing for the camera, Audrick and I are focused on each other, laughing. My head is buried in the crook between his neck and shoulder, my wide smile visible only in profile. I have one hand pressed against his chest while I'm using the other to brush some hair out of my face. Audrick is looking at me while he laughs, his eyes overflowing with mirth and his arms wrapped securely around my shoulders.
The kiss. The red eyes. It all makes sense now.
Shuffling the image to the back of the pile, I observe the next snapshot. It's of Audrick and I, and we're standing in front of a Christmas tree, its lights a cream-colored blur in the background. My hair is curled, the ends just brushing my shoulders, and I'm wearing a dress. Next to me, Audrick is wearing a suit and has an arm around my waist.
Just like the lights in the picture, my thoughts are a blur. There are so many questions racing through my mind that it can't focus enough on one to come up with a satisfying hypothesis. Was Audrick my Adam Barkley? Did Adam even exist, or was he just a ploy? Was my amnesia really an accident? Why didn't Audrick tell me we knew each other? Why—
The sound of Audrick's voice echoes through the hallway, and my eyes dart to the door. "Serena—" is that the red-head's name?—" I've warned you before about using this much paper in the copier...."
Audrick's voice trails off, and, knowing I don't have much more time to snoop, I slip my phone from my jeans pocket and snap pictures of the photographs. Just as I'm about to put my phone away, I make the split second decision to flip the prints around and see if there's anything written on the backs.
There is.
On the reverse sides of the two photographs taken in the grassy courtyard is written Keira Rose David and Audrick Frederic Taylor. May 2020. The back of the third photo also has those names handwritten, but is dated December 25, 2021.
