Page 17 of Possessive Doctor

He’s the guy who came into the hospital. I remember Andrew was angry, and he pushed him out into the hall.

“Are you ready, princess?” Andrew asks and I turn to look at him.

“Hey, who’s that guy across the street?” I ask him. He looks over my shoulder and then back at me.

“There’s nobody there. What guy?”

I look back and see he’s gone. Huh. That’s weird. A few days ago, he insisted on talking to me. Now, he’s not even going to say hi? I thought he knew me?

“He was the one who came to my hospital room, remember? He claimed he knew me, but you took him out into the hall.”

“Yeah, he’s nobody. He’s just a neighbor. He read about you in the paper.”

“Why did you send him away?”

“Amy, you had just regained consciousness. We needed to get you checked out.”

“Oh, well, then. I don’t remember him at all, so I guess we weren’t really close friends.”

“Did he wave just now? Did he rush across the street to say hello? No? I think that pretty much confirms you weren’t close friends, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

We drive back into the city in silence. I don’t know what I thought would happen today. Was I expecting all of my memories to hit me like a bolt of lightning? I did remember some things, and I’m so glad they were good memories of my parents.

I do wish the man across the street would have come back. Maybe he could tell me more about my life before the accident. He’s the only person that’s tried to reach out. He must have some information. I guess I’ll look for him the next time we go by.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?” I ask Andrew.

“Anything, baby girl. What’s up?”

“Can you get me a replacement cell phone? I might have missed calls or messages from people who could help me remember.”

He hesitates, then sighs and says, “Sure, but if you were on your parent's account, your line might already be disconnected. We’ll see what we can find out tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay, thank you. I would like to try anyway.”

We return to the apartment where I take a seat on the sofa and try my best to connect the fragmented memories I’ve had into some sort of mental timeline. Maybe then it will be easier to fill in some of the blanks. Andrew makes me some tea and brings it to me with my afternoon dose of medication.

“Let me take a look at your wounds, please. This is the most active you’ve been since your discharge. I want to make sure everything is still where it’s supposed to be,” he tells me.

I turn sideways and hold my arms out while he lifts my shirt and examines me. I jump a bit as he runs his finger down my back alongside the area where one of my biggest wounds is.

“What was that for? Why are you so jumpy?” he asks me.

“I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

He leans in close and whispers in my ear, “But you do like it when I touch you, right? You seemed to like it this morning in the bathroom.”

“I do like it when you touch me. I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Why do you do things to make me feel good but act like you don’t want anything in return?” I practically choke on the words. I can’t believe I’m actually saying them.

“Oh, I want something in return. You have no idea how hard it is to control myself around you. I just think it’s better to wait until you’ve recovered to take what I want. I can be pretty rough, little girl. I don’t want to hurt you. But, I still want to touch you, smell you, and taste you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” an airy affirmation slips from my lips as I try to catch my breath.

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