“When the past refuses to return, even your own name becomes a mystery.”
Third person POV
The first thing he heard was the rain.
It was not the gentle tapping of droplets against a window, nor the soft rhythm people often listened to when they wanted to fall asleep. This rain was furious, almost violent, hammering against the earth with such force that it seemed as though the sky itself had split open and was pouring everything it had onto the world below.
Somewhere nearby, water rushed through the darkness.
Powerful.
Relentless.
He lay motionless on the cold ground, half-submerged in wet mud, his clothes soaked through and clinging heavily to his body.
The river had carried him farther than he could remember, dragging him through the darkness before finally abandoning him on the muddy bank as though his body were nothing more than another piece of debris caught in its current.
He did not know how long he had been lying there.
Perhaps minutes.
Perhaps hours.
The rain continued to fall over him, washing mud from his face and filling the shallow hollows around his body.
His hair was plastered against his forehead, and water ran slowly down the side of his face before disappearing into the collar of his drenched shirt.
He tried to move.
Nothing happened.
For a moment, he could not even tell whether he was awake.
His body felt impossibly heavy, as though the earth beneath him had swallowed him halfway and had no intention of letting him go.
He tried again, forcing his mind to command his limbs, but the effort produced nothing more than a faint tremor somewhere in his hand.
Then his fingers twitched.
A sharp wave of pain immediately travelled through his arm and spread across his entire body.
He drew in a shallow breath.
Something was wrong.
A dull pressure had begun building behind his forehead, growing heavier with every passing second. His thoughts were scattered and distant, slipping away whenever he tried to hold on to them.
He tried to remember where he was.
Nothing.
He tried to remember what had happened.
Still nothing.
There was only the rain.
The river.
The cold.
And the strange, terrifying feeling that someone was watching him.
He tried to open his eyes.
Darkness greeted him.
He tried again, harder this time, but his eyelids barely responded. Somewhere between consciousness and sleep, he became aware of a faint warmth in the distance, something that did not belong to the cold night surrounding him.
Then he heard a voice.
A woman's voice.
Soft.
Almost affectionate.
“You came.”
His heart suddenly beat faster.
He didn't know the voice.
At least, he didn't think he did.
Yet something deep within him reacted to it before his mind could understand why. The words seemed strangely familiar, as though he had heard them somewhere long ago, in a memory that his mind had buried so deeply that even he could no longer reach it.
He tried to speak, but his throat refused to cooperate.
The voice came again, quieter this time, carried through the darkness like a whisper meant only for him.
“I was waiting for you.”
His breathing became uneven.
The rain seemed to fade into the background, becoming nothing more than a distant murmur as he focused on that voice. He could no longer feel the cold water against his skin, nor the mud beneath his body.
There was only her.
Whoever she was.
Something cold touched his cheek.
His entire body stiffened.
He tried to turn his head toward the sensation, but his muscles remained unresponsive. The touch disappeared almost as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a strange emptiness that frightened him more than the touch itself.
Then, somehow, he could see.
Not clearly.
Not completely.
But enough.
A shadow stood several feet away from him, surrounded by darkness and rain.
A woman.
He could not see her face.
Her clothes were drenched, and strands of wet hair seemed to cling around her silhouette as the rain poured relentlessly over her. She stood completely still, watching him from beneath the storm.
He stared at her, trying desperately to understand why she looked so familiar.
He knew her. The thought came suddenly.
He didn't know how he knew it, but somewhere inside him, beneath the confusion and pain, the certainty existed.
He knew her.
“Who are you?” he tried to ask.
No sound came from his lips.
The woman remained silent.
He pushed himself upward. This time, his body obeyed.
Barely.
His hands sank into the wet earth as he struggled to lift himself, his vision swimming as the world tilted around him. Every movement felt impossibly difficult, yet the need to reach her was stronger than the pain.
He somehow managed to stand.
The ground beneath his feet felt unstable, and the sound of rushing water grew louder behind him.
The woman was still there.
Waiting.
He took one uncertain step toward her.
She did not move.
He took another.
The distance between them seemed to stretch instead of shrink, as though the darkness itself was pulling them apart.
He reached out his hand. His fingers trembled as he tried to touch her.
For one brief moment, she seemed close enough for him to see the outline of her face.
And then—
A blinding flash of pain tore through his head.
He staggered backward.
The woman disappeared.
The rain disappeared.
The river disappeared.
Everything around him shattered into darkness.
___________________________
Author's POV
The man gasped.
His eyes flew open.
For several seconds, he couldn't understand what he was seeing. Everything around him was white—the ceiling above him, the harsh light shining directly into his eyes, the walls, and the curtains surrounding his bed. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he stared at the unfamiliar room, his mind struggling to make sense of where he was.
He tried to sit up.
A sharp pain shot through his head and spread down toward his stomach, forcing a strained breath from his lips.
“Don't!”
A hand immediately pressed against his shoulder.
He froze.
A young woman stood beside his bed, watching him with visible concern. She looked exhausted, as though she had spent the last few nights worrying about something she couldn't quite put into words. Her hair was tied loosely, with several strands falling around her face, and faint shadows rested beneath her eyes.
“Please don't move so quickly,” she said gently. “You're still very weak.”
He stared at her.
She stared back.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
His eyes slowly travelled around the room. There was a metal stand beside his bed with a hanging IV bag, a monitor displaying his heartbeat, white curtains separating his bed from the rest of the ward, and a small table covered with a few medical supplies.
The faint, unmistakable smell of antiseptic filled the air.
A hospital.
He swallowed, but his throat felt painfully dry.
“Where…” The word barely came out.
The woman immediately reached for a glass of water from the table.
“Here. Slowly.”
She helped him sit just enough to drink, carefully supporting his shoulders as he took a few small sips. After a moment, he pushed the glass away and leaned back against the pillow.
“Where am I?”
“In a hospital.”
His eyebrows drew together.
“Why?”
The woman hesitated. She pulled the chair closer to his bed and sat down, folding her hands loosely in her lap.
“You were found near the river,” she said. “You were badly injured and had lost a lot of blood.”
He remained silent for a moment, trying to process her words.
“When?”
“Three days ago,” she replied.
His eyes widened slightly.
Three days.
He looked down at himself.
His hands were covered in fading bruises, particularly around his knuckles. There were faint marks around both wrists, and his abdomen was wrapped in several layers of bandages. Even the slightest movement seemed to remind his body of injuries his mind could not remember receiving.
He stared at the bandages.
Nothing.
Not even a fragment of memory.
“Who found me?” he finally asked.
“I did.”
His eyes lifted toward her.
“You?”
She nodded. “I was returning from the clinic that evening.”
Her gaze shifted toward the window, where the pale daylight filtered through the curtains.
“It had been raining heavily that day. The river had risen because of the storm, and the current was dangerously strong. I was passing near the bank when I noticed something lying close to the water.”
“You saw me?” He asked.
“Yes.” She paused before adding quietly, “Honestly, I thought you were dead. But then I checked, and I realized your pulse was still beating. It was very faint, but it was there.”
She gave him a small, apologetic smile, almost as though she felt guilty for admitting what she had thought when she first saw him.
He looked away.
“It's fine.”
His own voice made him pause.
It sounded strange.
Deep. Controlled. Almost unfamiliar.
He listened to it for a moment, as though he were hearing someone else speak through his throat.
He tried to remember what his voice was supposed to sound like.
Nothing came.
No memory.
No image.
Not even a vague feeling of recognition.
He closed his eyes.
Perhaps he was simply tired.
Perhaps the pain was making it difficult to think.
He opened them again.
The woman was still watching him.
“What is my name?”
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she looked at him with an expression he couldn't quite understand.
Then she asked softly, “You tell me.”
His eyebrows pulled together. “My name?”
“Yes.”
He waited. Something should have appeared.
A word.
A sound.
Anything.
He searched his mind, reaching for the simplest thing he should have known about himself.
His childhood.
His home.
His school.
His parents.
Friends.
Work.
Nothing.
It was like standing inside a house where every room had been emptied, leaving behind only walls and locked doors.
His breathing slowed.
“I don't know.”
The woman's expression changed.
“You don't remember your name?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Your family?”
“No.”
“Where you live?”
Again, he shook his head.
“No.”
She stared at him for a few seconds before asking the question that seemed almost impossible to answer.
“Do you remember anything?”
He looked at her. His mind was completely silent.
“No.”
The word felt heavier the second time.
The woman slowly stood from the chair.
“I'm going to call the doctor.”
To be continued...............
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