"I know it's none of my business, but... What's a professional and obviously smart woman like you doing with an idiot like that?" I asked, my voice gruff from lack of use, curiosity getting the better of me.
She sighed, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "I've known Justin since I was little," she replied, her tone tinged with a mix of nostalgia and regret. "It's crazy how money can change people."
"Money doesn't change people. People are just good at hiding who they truly are until they no longer need to," I stated firmly, my voice carrying a hint of conviction.
She arched an eyebrow at my statement, amusement glinting in her eyes. "Hmm... a wise deduction. Not bad for a guy who can't remember his name," she responded teasingly, a playful smile dancing on her lips.
"Yeah..." I mumbled, feeling a frustrating blend of emotions, a mixture of annoyance and resignation settling within me. "How long do you think it might take before I start to remember?"
Her expression softened, empathy radiating from her gaze. "It could take a few days, weeks, or even never... It might help to be surrounded by people you know, your family, in a familiar environment," she suggested, her voice gentle yet laden with the weight of uncertainty.
A flicker of hope ignited within me at the mention of family. "Has anyone come to look for me?" I inquired, desperately seeking some connection to my past, a lifeline in this bewildering situation.
She hesitated for a moment, her gaze shifting towards the door before pulling a stool beside me. "Yes, someone did," she began, her voice laced with a touch of concern.
My heart quickened in anticipation, urging her to continue. "Okay... Please, go on," I urged, my voice filled with a mix of eagerness and trepidation.
"The morning after you were brought in, a man came to the hospital showing the nurses a picture of you," she revealed, her voice tinged with caution.
"Yes?" I prompted, my curiosity piqued.
"He looked... weird," she struggled to find the right words, her brow furrowing in thought.
"Weird? Can you explain?" I asked, intrigued by the unexpected description.
"He looked like a gangbanger," she confessed, cringing comically. I couldn't help but chuckle at the peculiar characterization.
"A gangbanger?" I repeated, finding the notion both amusing and concerning.
"Yeah," she confirmed. "You were brought in late at night, and I was the only doctor on call. We had to take you straight to surgery, and afterward, although the procedure was a success, you went into a coma. Due to your condition, it is the hospital's policy to notify the sheriff. I grew cautious about how to alert him after discovering such a character was looking for you and lurking about while you've yet to wake up. Luckily, Ivy's brother works with the local sheriff, and we contacted him instead. He believed the man might be responsible for your state and could be trying to finish you off. Exactly what I had thought."
"I see..." I mused, absorbing the information and wondering if the pretty doctor's intuition had merit or if it was just a result of an overactive imagination. I couldn't help but wonder if the accusations made by the idiot earlier about Dr. Eliza's alleged obsession with me had any truth to them. Was her vested interest in my case purely professional, or did it stem from something deeper? I considered the possibility that the accuser himself was projecting his own possessiveness, manipulation, and abusive tendencies onto her. His behavior had made it clear that he was no stranger to such traits.
"So then, while Trevor investigates and hopefully helps find your family, we thought it best to move you here for your safety, to limit your exposure to nurses and hospital personnel. This is an unused section of the hospital, a recent expansion that hasn't been commissioned for use yet. We thought it would be best to keep you here, especially since Ivy's brother, Trevor, caught the man lurking around town, still bent on finding you," Dr. Eliza explained, detailing the precautions taken to protect me.
"So he is still around?" I inquired, my curiosity heightened by the turn of events.
"Yes, he is staying at the only bed and breakfast Inn in town called the Hills. The establishment is run by an unscrupulous man named Hook. He would take anyone in as long as they have money to pay," she disclosed, revealing the man's whereabouts.
"Do you perhaps know the kind of questions he was asking?" I probed, hoping to gather any information that might shed light on my predicament.
"Trevor said he is just showing town folks your picture, and any attempt to question him had proved abortive," she replied, her voice tinged with frustration.
"How big exactly is this town?" I remarked, trying to gauge the dynamics of the place.
"The population is five hundred, so you could say we are a small town," she replied, offering a glimpse into the size and nature of the community.
"Hmm..." I mumbled, contemplating the possibility of taking matters into my own hands once I could walk without succumbing to gravity.
Dr. Eliza furrowed her brows, a pensive expression crossing her face. "I'm sorry, I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you. I will arrange for a brain scan just to be certain we haven't missed anything. We will do everything we can to help you get back on your feet."
"Thank you. I think I am going to need that, especially if there's a gangbanger after me," I replied, a hint of teasing lacing my words, attempting to find humor amidst the uncertainty.
She glowered at me, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You will thank us when you see him. He is scary-looking," she warned, her voice serious as she finished bandaging my hand and helped cover my legs with a blanket. With a brief nod, she said, "I am going to see to that scan." She then excused herself, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Despite my memory loss, my actions and instincts had shown that I wasn't completely defenseless. So whoever this person was, they weren't going to get to me without a fight.
Soon after, Dr. Eliza returned to help me out of bed and onto a wheelchair. I wore a backless hospital robe, and I noticed her attempt to avert her gaze as she assisted me. A smile of amusement stretched across my face, finding her modesty rather adorable. She wrapped a blanket around me before wheeling me out into a long corridor. At every turn, she paused to peer out before quickly pushing me forward. We continued this pattern until we reached a double door, which she wheeled me through. Inside, a young woman of about twenty years old was waiting for us, beaming with relief.
"Thank God you made it," the lady exclaimed, visibly relieved.
"Thank you for helping," Dr. Eliza responded, a hint of amusement in her voice.
"No need to thank me. I'm just glad to be part of this. Perhaps he is an undercover federal agent, working to expose some illegal dealings. How exciting!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with enthusiasm, almost forgetting my presence. I couldn't help but chuckle at her imagination. She blushed, realizing her overexcitement, and extended her hand for a shake.
"I'm Dr. Ivy Sloane, an attending at this hospital," she introduced herself, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned closer, making sure her words were for my ears only. "And thank you for decking that asswipe, Justin. I've wanted to do that myself for a while now, and it was pretty satisfying to jab him with anesthesia to shut him up, and you can bet your top dollar, Dr. Eliza would be going home to a peaceful house," she revealed, her words filled with a conspiratorial tone.
An indulgent smile tugged at the corners of my lips, "Well, he had it coming," I replied.
Her voice regained its usual volume as she continued, her enthusiasm contagious. "Which reinforces my belief that you are one of the good guys, and we must help you get back to doing your duty!" Dr. Ivy exclaimed, saluting me playfully.
I chuckled, her spirited personality was quite adorable. "I appreciate that but then I might just be one of them?" I pondered aloud, considering the possibilities.
Ivy scoffed, dismissing the thought. "Impossible! Now, let's get you into that brain scanner," she said, gesturing towards the machine as Dr. Eliza prepared it. "We'll need to give you a name, though. We can't just keep calling you 'Mr.,'" Ivy pointed out. Then her eyes lit up as if she just had an epiphany, "I know! You look like a Jason. Agent Jason sounds about right!"
Dr. Eliza chimed in with a chuckle. "Or a Brian?" The two of them playfully debated while I was placed on the cold machine, remaining still as it wheeled me into its enclosure, a sudden explosion of memory erupted in my head—a young boy watching over a baby in a crib, the baby gripping his finger tightly. Echoes of voices resounded in my mind, and one name rang loud and clear. The young boy beamed, responding to the name. "Mark," I whispered.
"What did you say?" Ivy called out.
"Oh my God, did you see that brain activity? It's his memory! He remembered something," she exclaimed.
"I think my name is Mark," I replied, feeling my heart thudding faster than usual with a mix of fear and excitement. My memory had brought me back to the name and the realization that I had a sister—someone who needed me. Clenching my fists, it felt as if I could still feel the tight hold of the baby around my index finger.