Love and Lust (The Hamartia Trilogy Book 2)

Capitolo I

I didn't know who the man was standing in the far corner of the room, looking as dazed as I am. Tears stained on his cheeks, blue pair of eyes like the Mediterranean ocean locked into my heterochromic ones. His gray shirt was wrinkled and his five o'clock shadow was proof of how he hasn't had time to look after himself for days.

"Caterina?" I heard the doctor call, as he dragged something bright into my eyes. Snapping from my confusion, I looked at the doctor who put away his medical light and grabbed the stethoscope that hung from his neck. "Deep breaths, please." I complied, taking deep breaths as he put the end of the instrument on my chest. He pressed it a few inches around the area before removing the other end from his ears. My eyes returned to the stranger's dazed ones. "How are you feeling, Ms. Santelli?"

I opened my mouth to answer but as I pushed my voice out, my throat throbbed and I grimaced in pain. My eyes snapped at the doctor, panicking, trying to reach for my throat. Have I gone mute? "Does your throat hurt?" The doctor asked like I was an open book. I nodded. "It's likely to hurt. You'll feel sore for at least a day from the intubation. How about we take this slow?"

I dared a glance from the man, who hadn't moved from where he was standing but now had his arms crossed over his chest, waiting and gawking at us—at me. Like he would pounce at the doctor if he so much as breathed wrong.

"Are you in any kind of pain?" The doctor asked, checking something on his clipboard. He glanced up at me and I nodded. Hell fucking yes I'm in pain. My head was throbbing like I had drunk the entire Scotland and inhaled the longest line of coke, my back was killing me and my mind was in turmoil. The pain was making me numb that I don't exactly know where it's coming from. "We'll add dosage to your pain relievers." He scribbled something on the paper then called a nurse and instructed her about the meds. "Do you feel this?" he asked, pinching my forearm. I nodded again. He walked back from the bed towards my feet under the covers. He pinched it again, but he touched something sore. I yelped.

"Sigmund," barked the stranger, whom I realized was wearing a gray tee, as he took a few steps towards us. Who are you? I've wanted to ask him but I can't find the strength to do so.

"I'm sorry," the doctor—Sigmund—murmured. "The fact that your senses are working is great. Now I'll have to ask whether or not you remember anything."

Then it hit me. Yes, I do not remember the man in gray, whom I consider to be someone important especially when he got access to be in my room despite my status and situation. But when Sigmund asked that, I felt the whole world stop. I stared at nothing for a moment and tried to think of what happened. Why was I in the hospital? Why does it hurt everywhere? Why can't I remember shit? But there was just a huge, dark gap. Fear was creeping in, exhaustion from something I don't exactly know is making me feel weaker than I already am. And I didn't like feeling weak. My lips started to tremble and before I knew it, I was crying while hysterically shaking my head. No! No, I do not remember anything.

"It's oka—"

"It's not fucking okay, Sigmund," Gray Shirt interrupted, finally stepping in between me and the doctor. Sigmund tightened his jaw as he signaled for his colleagues to leave. When they obeyed and it was only the three of us in the room, Gray Shirt added, "There must be something wrong if she can't remember shit." My thoughts exactly.

"Son," the doctor started. Surely, these men aren't biologically connected. While Sigmund has toned and olive skin, the man in gray is paler. The doctor looked Latino while the man looked somewhat European. His slight accent revealed that much. "What she cannot remember is temporary. It's her brain coping up with the stress her body endured and is currently experiencing. We have no control over that."

I stared at them, digesting Sigmund's words. Relief swept over me when I heard him say it was temporary. But still, the frustration of not knowing what I've forgotten was still there. The fact that I am at a disadvantage, scared the fuck out of me. What if the man in gray is not to be trusted and the only thing stopping him from killing me is this doctor?