vehement

14

I try to talk through my gag, but I'm unable to. Slowly, gentle hands begin to take it off, then they unwrap the blindfold from around my head.

Sitting beside me is a man. He has blonde hair, blue eyes and is the picture of friendly. He looks at me softly and smiles. "Amalia."

"Who are you?" I ask, beginning to squirm again. "Let me go!"

"Shh, it's okay." He whispers. "The doctor said you wouldn't remember much."

He begins to untie the rest of the binds. Once I'm free, I shuffle back on the bed I'm on and glance around. I'm in a bedroom, on a double bed that has plaid sheets. The walls are grey, and there's a small TV facing the bed. The curtains are drawn, making the room completely dark. The only source of light is the small lamp giving off a yellow hue, which sits on the white bedside table.

"Who are you?" I shout.

"I'm Frankie. I'm your husband." He suddenly looks upset, like he's distraught over the fact I don't know who he is.

"No you're not." I say. "Get away from me!"

He sets his hand on my thigh, and I smack it away.

"Amalia," he whispers gently, "we've been married for three years. We have a son, his name is Enzo. He's in the other room. We got into a car accident. You lost your memory because you hit your head."

"Stop lying. Where am I?" I shout. I climb off the bed and put as much distance between him and I again. "Why was I tied up?"

"You got.. violent toward Enzo."

"Who?"

"Our son." He says. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Where is he?" I ask.

"I'll take you to him," he whispers soothingly as he holds out his hand. Tentatively, I take it. He leads me out of the bedroom, into a small hallway, then into another room.

There's a small bed in the corner, surrounded by which are toys. That's not what I focus on, though. I focus on the little blonde boy in the bed, tucked under the covers.

His eyes open when Frankie turns the light on. Enzo sits up, adorably sleepy, and my heart warms a little bit. This is my son?

"Mama." He says. "Mama!" He says again, louder. He sounds scared. Why is he scared? Is he scared because of what Frankie said? Was I violent toward him? I don't think I'd ever touch a child, especially not one as adorable and pure as the little boy in front of me. He climbs out of bed and runs over to me, wrapping his arms around my leg. "Mama!"

I look at Frankie, who gives me a look as if to say, see? I lean down and lift him up, holding him out in front of me.

Seeing him is different that seeing Frankie. My heart clenches, and I feel attached to him, like there's an invisible link binding us together. I smile and bring him closer to me, setting him on my hip carefully.

"Mama! Mama!" He shouts, scared.

"It's okay." I whisper unsurely. "I'm.. I'm here."

I set my hand on the back of his head, beginning to bounce him up and down. He leans his head on my shoulder and begins to sob.

Frankie smiles at me.

"Why don't I go make something for you to eat? You can get him back to bed, and we can talk for a little bit." He suggests quietly.

I look down at the precious little boy in my arms and nod tentatively. His smile widens. He leans forward to kiss my cheek, and I look down as he leaves.