I wake up and confused and lost… except for Ellison, the key to my past and current life. My memories are shattered images at best and make no sense, and what I’m learning about myself makes me question who I am. Clues add up to different answers. Everyone else is certain about me and what’s going on, leaving me questioning my sanity. Ellison is my lifeline. He’s also a stranger to me.
Megan wakes from a coma to a life that doesn’t feel right and a husband she doesn't recognize. Is he lying to her? What’s really going on? All the evidence says they’re legally married, and yet her shattered memories say otherwise. Everyone she meets seems to be in on it, unless she’s suffering from paranoia due to her brain injury.
Ellison is the key to her past and future, even if she can’t trust him. That doesn’t stop her attraction to him. Megan plays a double agent, working with “Eli” to rebuild a life while trying to uncover the truth. Why would he do this? Does she know something she shouldn’t? He has an explanation for everything until new answers lead to an even more twisted story. What will she have to do to uncover the truth and learn who she really is?
It’s too quiet. I still to listen, and then proceed silently around the corner…
There’s a hallway. Another corner. Then another. I’ll never get out of here. My foot bumps something that wasn’t there before.
I crouch next to something—no, someone. It’s too dark to see much but I make out a suit. Diagonal stripes on the tie. I rest a hand on his chest and it feels wet. I flip my hand over and see red. Bright red. Brighter than it should be in this black fog.
I jerk awake with a gasp, then look at both of my palms in the semidarkness. I don’t see blood. I rub them together. They’re dry. Had I been holding a gun in the dream? The sensation is still there, so real that I stare at my empty hand to reassure myself. Why would I have a gun?
I hear my ragged breathing and collect my thoughts enough to hold my breath and listen. At first I think I’m alone, but as my eyes adjust and see more details, I realize Ellison is still in the chair. Holding his breath too.
There’s tiny points of soft light coming from plug-ins and the machines. It’s not nearly enough to see if his eyes are open.
“Ellison?”
No answer.
“Ellison? Are you awake?” I panic, wondering what he’s thinking. What he’s doing.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Giorgia A.
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by ALINE SASSON
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by EDUARDO J BRACHO MONTIEL
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