He Married Me for My Memory... But I Don't Remember Him

He Married Me for My Memory... But I Don't Remember Him

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Nov 14, 2025
I woke up in a wedding gown with a ring on my finger and a man kissing my forehead like I was his entire world. His name is Elias. He says we've been married for two years. That we're soulmates. That I was in a coma... and now I'm finally back. But I don't remember him. Not his laugh. Not his touch. Not the way he used to whisper my name like a promise. The doctors call it trauma-induced amnesia. But Elias? He shows me things I wish I could unsee. Photos of me... holding a knife. Blood on my hands. Him... lying dead at my feet. And smiling. Smiling. He says I killed him. Three times. Each time, I wake up in a new body. Each time, he finds me. Each time... he marries me again. And now, I'm starting to wonder... Am I the victim?* Or am I the monster he's been waiting for?* This isn't a love story. It's a loop. And I'm the only one who doesn't remember how to break it.
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#174
toxiclove
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I'm about to tell you a story about a girl. A normal girl. A girl that had no cares in the world, until her trust for it was stripped away. When you read her story, you'll find yourself trusting her, loving her, rooting for her. But you see, not everyone gets to trust the world. Not everyone has a happy ending. --- Halfway through the kiss however, his attitude changed; instead of being a loving embrace, it became a fierce trap. His grip on her waist tightened, trapped her where she was instead of simply holding her where he wanted her. The hand in her hair grabbed a section of it, enforcing his demand for her not to go anywhere. Before she knew what was happening, he left go of her hair, and pushed her to the ground. She gasped, suddenly able to breathe. He stood up and walked over to her. He placed a soft hand on her cheek, just like he used to when he was telling her how special she was to him. None of the emotion was there this time however, all she could feel radiating from his was rage. "You shouldn't have run off, babe," he said bitterly. "I was about to show you how much I loved you. Instead, I now have to show you what happens when you anger me." --- The men regarded her, before she was shoved to the ground and one produced a whip. There, laying broken on the floor, as the other girls watched, she was whipped. Slowly, she felt her skin breaking in time with her heart and her will.

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