~MORGANA
People were so foolish. They always have been, and that was something I realised after years of dealing with them.
And most of the time, their foolishness always turns out to be an advantage. Really. Humans have always been, and will always be easy to manipulate.
The foolishness worked out for me all the time.
But if there was the one trait that I loved about humans, it was how forgetful they were.
Oh My.
How I loved when people forgot.
For some reason, Lydia seemed to have forgotten who I was and what she used to be to me.
It had stuck me as weird at first when she first reappeared, but as time went on, I realised something.
Lydia had lost her memory.
Nobody told me, of course. The only reason I knew was because of how much I paid attention.
But her introducing herself to Rowan after they thought I had left? That was the final clue I needed.
She indeed, remembered nothing.
Which was the perfect explanation for her behaviour towards me. Lydia didn't remember, and that was what gave her the guts to raise her hand — and her voice — at me.
I mean, she had forgotten how much I used to punish her for not putting up a great act about being best friends with me.
She had always needed a harsh reminder every now and then on how to act so that people would not see that we weren't really close like we were projecting to be.
But now...my girl seemed to have forgotten her lessons.
A part of me felt mad about that. If I had to start teaching her all over again, it would be very hard to bend her to my will.
Especially considering the fact that she wasn't really scared of me now.
But that wasn't an issue, really. They are ways that I can use to salvage that. Muscle memories should help too. I just needed to refresh and jog her memory for a few moments.
A large part of me, however, was glad about the memory loss.
Because that could only mean one thing.
Lydia didn't remember anything that happened before her accident. Which meant that she didn't remember my significant involvement in her disappearance.
Or how I was the sole reason why she left home the day she disappeared.
I leaned deeper into my bed, my mind whirling with these thoughts.
A part of me had been terrified that she would mention something, but now that I knew she didn't remember even a single detail, I would not have to worry about that anymore.
The one thing I needed to do was come up with a plan to get her back under my thumb.
Lydia was never meant to be independent. I was the only one who could control her, and she might have gone rouge now, but very soon, I would have her back in the palm of my hand.
Just like she used to be.
∆
~LYDIA
There was nothing in this room.
I had searched every corner, but I found nothing that was out of place. The closet was filled with clothes that were too colourful. Yellow sundresses. Wide hats in various colours like pink. Blue. Yellow. Beige. White.
There were a lot of sandals too, with the occasional heels in between.
The closet was a dead end.
I tried the drawers next. Make up. Sketch books. Pencils. Simple jewelleries. Romance novels. It was a mix match of items I wouldn't have expected, and it felt...weird.
Nothing in this room was my style. Nothing at all.
But that was not my goal. I needed to know if I used to keep some sort of diary. Or a journal.
No matter how much I searched though, I found nothing.
I plopped down on my bed, frustration roiling through me.
This was stressing me out. I needed to know the type of life I used to live, I needed to if I had been a victim stuck in a cage disguised as a mansion.
But apart from the brief, blurry flashes of memories, nothing else came to me.
It was so fucking frustrating.
A knock sounded on my door. I was startled at the sudden sound, and my eyes automatically strayed to the clock on the bedside table.
It was way past midnight.
And I stayed in this house with one person. What could Joey be possibly doing in my room by this time?
The knock came on again.
"Lydia? Are you there? I'm sorry to be here this late but there's...uhm, there is something I will like to show you," Joey's voice floated into my room through the door.
My brows furrowed into a frown.
What could he possibly have to show me that could not wait until morning?
A part of me wanted to walk to the door and open it, but I didn't move. I stayed where I was.
I still wasn't sure if he was someone I could trust or not. But I was not going to take any more chances.
I needed to know the truth.
He knocked a few more times, clearly insistent on whatever it was he wanted me to see. I stayed silent.
I listened as his footsteps eventually faded away, and heaved a sigh of relief.
I switched off the light from the switch above my bedside today, but I remained sitting in the darkness.
Something was trying to worm its way into the fore front of my brain. It nibbled at me so bad, and I desperately wanted to remember.
What was it this time?
I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. Then the information my brain was trying to remind me became clear.
If there was nothing in my room, there might be something, a clue probably, in the other rooms.
Like the room where I apparently kept fishes. Or the room where all of my painting supplies were.
Or — I remembered in a stroke of brilliance — in Joey's bedroom.
He had told me that we shared a bedroom and he only had to move because I needed space and time to acclimate myself to this new life.
But what if this room was not the master bedroom? What if it was his?
And what if the clue I was desperately searching for was in the room where my husband was currently occupying?
What is the secret to unlocking my memories had been with him all along?