Perfection

Chapter 2 - Numbers to no one

She gasped for air, over and over again as her grip onto the mirror frame tightened. This reflection of hers, there was a bruise across her cheekbone and one by her lip, to go with all of the other bruises that she had noticed while at the hospital.

Tears found their way to her eyes but without spilling over. She recognized her own reflection, but she had changed, grown older, and even if it wasn't by much, it was still enough to come as a shock. She bit her teeth together while stumbling back on shaky legs. How could this be, how could she have lost so much of her memory, so much of her life, her thoughts and her experiences.

How could it be that the officers were right in calling her Mrs Young. Young, the man back in the kitchen, was apparently her husband, yet there was no memory of a wedding. There was nothing left but the memories of her life before the age of eighteen.

She turned around to gaze back at the dropped calendar. It was wide open, revealing the fully cluttered pages of appointments, all from dentists to interviews and photo shoots, but more importantly; the top of the pages teased her with it's numbers. 2012.

"Are you not listening?!" Mr Young raised his voice back in the kitchen, still caught up in his phone call.

Her right hand pressed against the slightly opened door, to then clench around the doorknob. She took another deep, shaking breath as she stumbled into the living room. Mr Young was still at the exact spot where she had left him, only with his back turned against her and his free hand pressed against the kitchen counter.

"We had a deal." He hissed.

"I payed you more than enough to get rid of her." He slammed his hand against the counter.

"Yet she doesn't seem gone to me."

Melanie pressed her hand against her mouth as she backed into the bedroom and silently closed the door behind her. Get rid of her? Deal, what deal? "Doesn't seem gone" he had said.. Melanie had a feeling that Mr Young was talking about her, she had indeed been gone for five days according to the police officers.

Again, the strong sense of holding onto this white bag, her bag, washed over her as she picked it back up together with the calendar. She tucked the leather covered calendar into the bag as she, as silently as possible, made it over to a window. Sliding the curtains apart, she gazed out over the street that she and Louise, Mr Young's maid, had come from just about an hour earlier.

It was already dark enough outside for her to be able to sneak out the window without being noticed, or so she thought as she, with the elegance of a drunk ballerina, lost her balance and fell into a what used to be beautiful rosebush.

"Ow.." She mumbled as she pulled one out of many thorns out of her arm.

"Are you okay?" A man spoke up just a few feet away.

"That sure is a strange way to leave ones house."

Melanie blinked slowly as she rolled over on her back to gaze up at the one who had spoken. His slug like mustache moved with his breaths.

"You.." Melanie gave out a moan as she made her way back up on her feet while brushing a few leaves off her coat.

"You were at the hospital.."

"I'm always right next to you, it seems." The man smiled, or at least Melanie assumed that he was smiling, she couldn't really see his mouth under all of that facial hair.

She wrinkled her forehead as she turned around to head for the streets. The man hurried after her, when she stopped, he stopped, when she took a turn, he did the same. When they had made it far enough for Mr Young's house to be out of sight, the man spoke up;