Chapter 21
Mia
“Ahh, shit.” Some of the glass from the frame has cut the top of my foot. I knew sliders weren’t the best choice of footwear for gardening. “Bloody hell, Eric. You’ve got some explaining to do,” I say, picking out the glass from my foot.
I retrieve the wedding photo from the floor. Eric looks at me quizzically. He’s probably surprised I haven’t attempted to kill him yet. The thing is, I’m not at all surprised it isn’t me in this picture.
“Help me out of here. I’m going to need to do something with this cut. It’s pretty deep.”
Eric takes my hand and assists me out of the cramped shed. Once inside the house, I use the first aid kit to clean up my wound and use steri-strips to close the cut. Eric hasn’t said a word since coming in from the shed, other than to comply when I’ve asked for something regarding my injury. But now he is going talk.
“Who am I, Eric?”
“You’re Arianna.”
His reply makes me angry. “Stop fucking lying, Eric. This is Arianna.” I throw their wedding photograph at him. “And that is clearly not me.”
Eric picks up the photo and sighs. He lightly rubs his thumb over the image of Arianna.
“Who am I, Eric?” I ask again.
“I don’t know.”
I was afraid that might be his answer. I think I’ve known from first waking up in the hospital that I wasn’t Arianna. But with no memory, it’s very difficult to trust your instincts. There must be a link between myself and Arianna for this situation to be possible.
“Where is the real Arianna?” I ask, frustrated.
“I don’t know.” Eric puts his head in his hands.
“There’s a lot of don’t knows here, Eric. Tell me something you do know. Tell me why you have been pretending I am Arianna.”
Eric just shakes his head. His face is still in his hands, and he’s slumped over in the chair he is sat in.
“Start from the beginning. You find out I’m in hospital. Who rang you? What did they say?” I ask, trying to sound calm.
I need him to explain everything to me so I have the best chance of finding out who I am. Inside, however, I am raging. I’ve been told the story of my accident many times. Eric has told me, and Donna my nurse at the hospital discussed it with me, trying to jog my memory. But nothing ever came back. The only thing I think may be related is a reoccurring dream where I’m running to something or someone, but I don’t get there in time, and then harrowing screams follow. According to what I’ve been told, I went out one evening with my two friends, we exited a bar, and were talking to the bouncers when a car came at speed, mounted the pavement, and drove straight into us. The car then collided with an oncoming car, which caused the car to explode, hence the burns.
“Arianna left me a couple of months before the accident. I’d apologised over and over and begged her to come back, but she wouldn’t. She’d just got this new job, and her work friends turned her against me. I knew I shouldn’t have let her get a job, but she’d kept going on and on about wanting to earn her own money. So I’d given in.” Eric shakes his head angrily. “But then I get a call from the hospital saying my wife had been in an accident. Since we’re still married, I’m her next of kin. Finally Arianna had come back to me.” Eric smiles.
“But she hadn’t—it was me. So why didn’t you tell the hospital I wasn’t Arianna when you got there?” I can’t believe something like this could happen.
“At first I thought you were Arianna. Your face was covered with bandages, your hair is the same colour, and you were found with Arianna’s bag and identification. I went to the hospital every day and sat by your side, praying for you to get better and for another chance to be with you.”
“When did you realise it wasn’t Arianna lying in that bed?” I cannot comprehend why someone could lie about a person’s life.
“When they removed the bandages from your face. I was so shocked, I left the hospital without speaking to anyone. I didn’t go back for days. I was heartbroken you weren’t Arianna, which meant the real Arianna must have died in the accident. But then I started to think about you. You only had me. When I got back to the hospital, you woke up. The doctors and nurses naturally told you your name was Arianna. When you said you couldn’t remember who you were, I realised it must be God who had sent you to me. He was giving me a second chance to be a good husband. And then when I found out you were pregnant, I knew you were both a gift from him. Arianna and I had tried for years to have a child, but it had sadly never happened.”
Eric looks at me hopefully. He actually believes this bullshit about me being a gift from God. He has given me some good information to go on, though. I was obviously with Arianna that night. Eric said she was out with work friends, so it’s possible I worked with Arianna. I’ll find out where that was and go see if anyone knows who I am.
“You said I—well, Arianna—didn’t work when I asked you. Why was that?”
“I didn’t want you contacting them. They would know that you weren’t Arianna,” Eric admits.
“Okay, tell me where she used to work. Maybe I worked there too. Someone might know my real identity.” I take a piece of paper and a pen out of the kitchen drawer, ready to write down the name of the company.
“No!” Eric snatches the pen out of my hand. “You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.”
“Eric, you must realise I’m not actually a gift from God. I have a life. I might even have a husband. This baby obviously isn’t yours. Someone somewhere is missing me.”
“Well, nobody has come looking for you, have they?”
“Probably because they think I am dead!” I exclaim. Oh god, my family will think I am dead. It’s been over six months since my accident now. Their lives will have moved on. “Tell me where she worked!”
I’m angry now. But by the look on Eric’s face, so is he. Eric raises his hand to strike me across the face, but my reactions are faster. Forcefully grabbing hold of his wrist, I knee him in the groin. As he bends over in pain, I twist his arm around his back, pulling it painfully from its socket.
“Huh, I didn’t know I could do that.” I nod, proud of myself. It seems muscle memory is a lot stronger than brain memory.
As I’m deciding what my next move will be, I feel a mild popping sensation down below, which is followed by a gush of fluid that pours down my legs.
“Oh shit.” I release Eric and hold my stomach. “No, no little baby, you’re not due for another month or so yet.” Forgetting everything else and focusing on my baby, I tell Eric, “I’m going to clean myself up and get changed, and then you can drive me to the hospital. Get the hospital bags ready. I’ll only be a minute.”
I grab a change of clothes and have a quick shower. Once I’m dressed, I go to look for Eric. I find him sat at the kitchen table with a large knife in front of him.
“What are you doing, Eric? We need to go.” I have a bad feeling about this. Protecting my baby is my uttermost priority.
“I’m not taking you to the hospital.”
“I’ll get a taxi, then.”
As I walk over to the house phone, I notice the extra bolts on the door have been padlocked so they can’t be opened. Looks like I’m going to have a fight on my hands.
“You’re not going anywhere, Arianna. You can have the baby here, in our home.”
“The baby is early. It might need some medical care. I’m not having it here. Neither of us knows what we doing—it’s too dangerous. Come on, Eric, please—where’s the keys to locks?”
I feel remarkably calm, considering the situation I am in. My only concern is my baby and that knife. Eric doesn’t reply. The locks don’t actually bother me. There are plenty of windows in this house I can easily break and get out of. I just don’t want to turn my back on Eric while he is in this state.
“I’m telling you now, Eric—I am leaving this house and going to the hospital. I will either go through the door or the window. You will not stop me.” I’m ready to fight for my baby.
Eric stands up and picks up the knife.
“I can’t let you leave me again, Arianna. I can’t live without you.”
“I’m not Arianna. I’m….”
My name is on the tip of my tongue. I’m feeling more and more myself. I’m a strong capable woman. Looking at the knife Eric is pointing towards me, I know what I have to do. I act fast so he has no time to respond. My reflexes are precise and forceful. While holding his arm at his back, I release the knife from his hand. Then I wrap my arm around his neck. I put my left hand on the back of his head and tilt it forward to keep control of him. He’s trying his best to fight back, but I’m much stronger and faster than him.
Suddenly I get a flashback, like a reel of memories lasting seconds. I’m doing self-defence with a trainer. Then I’m fighting for my life against a large man wearing black. All these snippets of memories have a soundtrack of harrowing female screams. I know those voices.
I apply pressure to the sides of Eric’s neck by squeezing my arm, cutting off the blood supply to his brain. Once his body goes limp, I sit him down on a chair. I find the duct tape and secure his arms behind him, a leg to each chair leg, and then use the rest to wrap his body against the back of the chair. There’s no chance he is coming after me. After sticking a little piece over his mouth for added discomfort, I find the keys to the padlocks in Eric’s pocket, along with the car keys.
Once I’m out of the house, I get into Eric’s car. I hope I can drive. After turning on the engine, I put my foot on the clutch and put the car into reverse. I do know how to drive. As I set off down the narrow lane that leads to our house, a flashback of a red Ferrari makes me smile. A little kick from my baby has me rubbing my bump. “Everything is going to be just fine, I promise.”
“Arggh!” My first contraction makes me slam on the break. “Breathe, Mia. Breathe.”
Oh my god. My name is Mia.
Again I’m hit with a flashback reel. It’s of different people, all saying my name. “Mia.” “Mia.” “Mia.”
Once the pain subsides, I continue my journey to the hospital. I’m not one hundred percent sure where the hospital is, but I know it isn’t far. I’ll just ask someone for directions when I get to the main road. A minute later I’m hit with another contraction, and they don’t stop there. They’re coming thick and fast now, and I have to keep stopping the car to breathe through them. I’ve been driving along the main road for what seems like hours, and I haven’t seen one person or even a car to stop and ask for directions.
“Finally,” I say to my rearview mirror as I see a car pull into the lay-by I’m resting in.