Bad Memory

~ Bound ~

He immediately looked up from his clipboard. The way his sharp eyes bored into me made me instantly regret the question.

"Yes?"

"I just...sorry...why am I handcuffed?"

He let out an irritated sigh. "It's standard procedure for patients with significant head trauma. Confusion and memory loss can cause people to try to run. Sometimes they even act violently."

"Oh, I would never-" I began, then paused. "Sorry, memory loss?"

"Do you remember the date?"

"Of course. Wednesday, January 5, 67 Pax," I replied easily. I had just turned 18 on the first, so my Binding Ceremony was only a few weeks away. I had been counting down the days obsessively for the past year: 27 to go.

The doctor nodded. "Some pretty significant memory loss, then."

How long was "significant?" A week? A month? A year?

"What is the date?" I asked.

"I'm not at liberty to say." The words were far from apologetic. It was as though he was reading from a script, as though he didn't care if I was distressed about potentially missing the single most important day of my life.

"Why not?" I demanded.

"It's not your place to question me."

The monitors next to me began to bleep erratically. My frustration was elevating my pulse and blood pressure.

The doctor glanced at the monitors, then back at me with his eyebrows raised. "Is there a problem?"

"No, sir," I replied, bowing my head. Controlling my emotions had never been an issue for me, and I was relieved that whatever happened to me hadn't changed that. My frustration was quickly replaced by an artificial calm, and the monitors returned to smooth, steady blips.

The doctor watched me silently, just long enough to make me uncomfortable. "Your family is here," he said finally, breaking the tension. "You can have some time with them, but then you need to rest."

Once the doctor left, I began to search my memories again. Had I missed my Binding Ceremony? My entire life had been devoted to becoming the ideal wife. I excelled in all my courses - cooking, cleaning, sewing, and music - perfected the way I styled my curls, and tailored my wardrobe to highlight the curves I barely had. I took fertility supplements to make sure I was ready to bear children. I had done everything right, to the point that a general had already been courting me.

Granted, that general was my father's friend, General Simeon Quade. I was only 14 when my father began pressuring me to choose him at my Ceremony. It would be an honor to be a general's wife, but Quade frightened me. Beneath his kind words, lavish gifts, and charming smiles was a darkness that he could never fully hide. I had hoped that my skills and appearance would attract another general so I could justify not choosing him. If he was the only general to bid on me, my decision was essentially made.

Of course, Lillian was bound to a very serious and stern older man, so at least I would be in good company. More than anything, I just wanted to be allowed to see my best friend again. Bound women were forbidden to associate with the unbound. I had only been able to see Lillian in secret for the past few months since her Ceremony.

But if my Ceremony had passed, would I still be allowed to marry? Even if General Quade was scary, being unbound was a far worse fate. What if they sent me to the Sanctuary?

Before panic consumed me, the door to my room burst open, and my mother sprinted to my side. "My baby," she exclaimed, pulling me to her so tightly that it took everything in me to not cry out in pain. Even though she was in a perfectly-ironed dress and matching cardigan, several hairs had escaped from her signature bun, some mascara had smeared under her eyes, and she wasn't even wearing lipstick. For Marjorie Abbott, that was about as disheveled as she would ever dare get.

"Marjorie," my father warned, standing in the doorway. "The doctor said to be gentle."

My father, on the other hand, looked exactly as polished as I remembered. He wore his general's uniform, his posture rigid. I had never seen him relax after my brother died, and I'm sure that coming to visit his only other child in a hospital had only tightened his muscles even more. It seemed late - outside was pitch black - but it looked like he came straight from work.

My mother immediately backed away. "I'm sorry," she apologized, bowing her head.

"It's okay," my father assured her. "Just don't overwhelm her."

My mother rushed back to me before my father had even finished speaking, sitting in the chair next to my bed and holding my hand the way a child would hold onto a balloon they were terrified of losing. It felt a bit excessive, but then again, I had no idea what happened to me or how long it had been since I last saw them.

"What happened?" I asked her.

She glanced back at my father, who stepped forward. "We were instructed not to tell you anything," he said.

"Father, please," I begged. "Can you at least tell me if I missed my Binding Ceremony?"

My father's brow knitted together. "You don't remember?"

"No."

My father looked back to my mother and gave her a small nod.

"Sweetheart, you didn't miss it," my mother told me gently. "It happened."

"Wait, it happened? What happened? Am I bound?"

Before I could ask any more questions, a knock interrupted us.

"The doctor said she's awake?"

Standing at the entrance to the room was a man wearing the same attire as my father. Another general. Not as many medals, and only one star. So a newer general, lower ranked than my father by quite a bit. But still impressive. Especially considering that he didn't look like he had even broken 30.

I bowed my head instinctively. Proper ladies didn't ogle men. And my gaze had already lingered on him longer than socially acceptable. It was hard not to - even with the serious expression on his face, his deep brown eyes held a warmth that instantly drew you in.

"Shiloh," my father said. I shifted my gaze from my lap to my father. "Do you recognize this man?" he asked.

Now with permission, I looked back to the general. As my gaze ventured beyond his eyes, I realized he was undeniably handsome. The neat and clean-shaven standard military appearance highlighted his angular features - a chiseled jawline and sharp cheekbones. And though his uniform did little to emphasize his muscular build, it didn't completely hide it.

All of his features were pleasing, but none of them were familiar.

"Should I recognize him?"

My father cocked an eyebrow. "Shiloh, this is General Ezra Rowan. Your husband."