His Awakening

HERAIAH ‘Hera’ BAUTISTA

“Girl! Where are you off to? It’s still so early!”

I stop mid-step as I hear Alex’s voice. I turn to look at her with one eyebrow raised, my shoulders slumped and exhaustion plain on my face.

“Whoa! Kalerki! You look worse than a wilted vegetable!” she says, and I roll my eyes.

I let out a long sigh. “I’m going home—I feel like I’m about to pass out from tiredness.”

She gapes at me. “Going home?! What do you mean ‘going home’? Why would you go home?!” She fires off questions one after another. “We already agreed we’d hit the bar tonight, remember?!”

I rub my forehead in frustration. “You know where my house is, right? Before you were so scared for me to go home when it’s dark—but now you want me to head back in the middle of the night?!”

She laughs and slings an arm around my shoulders. “Come on, Hera—it’s rare we get to do this. Plus, I’ll drive you home—”

“Shhhh!” I cut her off, giving her a sharp look. “You said the same thing last year, Alex! And I ended up stumbling home like I’d been dragged through mud. I’m not falling for your sweet talk again.”

She grimaces at my words, drops her arm from my shoulders, and trudges back to her desk with her head down.

I hear one of our department heads laughing nearby. She walks over and pats my shoulder gently.

“You can head home now, dear. You can make it up to us during our overnight trip for Christmas break,” she says, and I manage a small smile.

“Thank you, Ma’am Picaso.”

I don’t linger long after that. I leave the office and head to the waiting shed to catch a ride.

The air is cold—you can feel Christmas coming. But nights like this don’t make me think of Christmas Eve anymore. Instead, I remember the darkest night of my life.

“Thank you, Manong.” I finish paying the tricycle driver, grateful he took me all the way to my doorstep.

“Not a problem at all. The road’s paved now, so it’s easy to drive right up here.”

I nod and watch him drive off, then my eyes drift to a car parked in front of the house.

I take a deep breath and push the door open—it’s unlocked. Inside, a man I’ve grown used to seeing is waiting.

He turns toward me when he hears the door open. He’s sitting on the sofa, watching a movie on the large TV.

“Oh, you’re finally here,” he says.

“Good evening, Mr. Stanley,” I greet him. He’s the doctor who monitors the man in the room next to mine.

“Have you been here long?” I ask as I walk closer.

He shakes his head. “Since around five.”

I nod. “So… how is he? How’s he doing?”

“He’s stable. No sign of waking up yet, but his vitals are strong.”

I bite my lower lip. “When do you think he’ll wake up?” I murmur, desperation creeping into my voice.

Mr. Stanley laughs softly. “Who knows? He’s in a coma after all. No need to worry though—he won’t wake up this year.”

He doesn’t stay long after that, leaving me with those heavy words hanging in the air.

I stare into space, talking to myself quietly. “He’s right. I shouldn’t worry so much. That psychopath can’t hurt me when he’s like that. He can’t lay a finger on me.”

I look around the house—it’s heavily monitored. Every corner has a CCTV camera, except my bedroom and bathroom. If he does wake up, my father’s men will be notified right away.

It’s been almost a year like this, and I feel like I have no privacy in my own home. Most days I stay in my room when I’m back, but sometimes I go into the next room to clean. Dad ordered me to take care of him after all—take care of the psychopath who almost killed me.

“Ugh! I’m going to take a shower!” I call out, heading up to the second floor. I hop straight into the bathroom for a quick wash. Tonight I’m wearing simple lingerie to sleep—I’ve run out of clean clothes and need to do laundry soon.

“Haaaa!” I groan as I flop face-first onto my bed.

I stare at the ceiling, thinking about what I’ll do for Christmas. It’s only five days away, but I have no plans to celebrate. I’ll spend another Christmas alone—well, not completely alone. There’s a man who might as well be dead sleeping in the next room. But he’s not part of my plans. I’m sure he won’t wake up this year.

Four more days pass, and it’s Christmas Eve. I have no intention of celebrating, so I just go to bed early, planning to sleep through until morning. But then… something unexpected happens.

—

I woke to a deafening clamor from the room next door, my body jolting upright in bed. I had no idea what time it was, but when I turned toward my window, darkness still blanketed the world outside.

“Shit—what was that?” I whispered to myself as I slid out of bed and made my way to the door.

I froze where I stood the moment I realized the noise had come from the adjacent room.

My heart began to race, yet I swallowed down my fear—there was no choice but to look into it. With trembling hands, I pushed open the door.

The room beyond was dim, lit only by the faint glow of small monitors tracking the condition of the man called Thaddeus.

“Oh my God!” I cried out, shock and terror weaving through my voice. The bed was empty. Every line—oxygen tubes and more—had been torn away. I stepped closer, half-hoping my eyes deceived me. But there was no mistaking it: the bed was completely bare.

“Where did he go? I have to find him!” I muttered frantically, starting toward the door. Before I could take more than a few steps, I spotted a figure standing in the shadows along the wall.

A hand shot out to cover my mouth.

“Ahhh!” I screamed against his grip, the sound muffled but sharp.

I squeezed my eyes shut as glass shattered somewhere nearby. When I opened them again, half my body was pressed against the bed, his form behind me, his hands clamped tight around my wrists and pinned to my back.

I struggled to break free, but I could barely shift him an inch.

What was happening? It was impossible. Where had he found such strength? For Pete’s sake—he’d been bedridden for a full year!

His weight bore down on me, deliberate in its message: I stood no chance against him.

“L-Let me go!” My voice shook, breath coming in short gasps. “Please—let me go!”

“Hmmph.” I gasped as something hard pressed against my ass, unmistakably intimate.

Oh God. This was the moment I needed to stay calm—if I didn’t, I would die.

“Thaddeus!” I called his name, squeezing my eyes shut. “Zeus!”

I had to do everything in my power to soothe him. I knew what he was capable of, and I was not ready to die.

“I know you just woke up. I’m sure you’re confused, so I’ll explain everything I can,” I said, fighting to draw breath. “Your body isn’t strong yet—I’ll call your doctor right away.”

I tried to turn my head toward him. “Please, just let me go first—”

My words cut off as he pressed his face against my shoulder.

“Shhh...”

A shiver ran down my spine at the sound of his voice. “A-Ahh—what?”

“Don’t make any sound. Answer me, woman.”

“Did you lock me up?”

I grimaced at the question.

“Or did I lock you up?” His next words jolted me further.

“Huh? N-No! Of course not!” I stammered, panic rising in my chest.

“That’s not it at all! You’ve been a patient for over a year—unconscious this whole time, and you just woke up. Please, calm down, Zeus,” I rambled, but he offered no reply. Instead, his hands moved over my body, shifting me until we faced each other.

I looked up, and our eyes met.

I was stunned by his charcoal gaze—so dark, so deep, they seemed almost lifeless. Only the monitor lights cast enough glow to make out his features clearly.

I swallowed hard and said his name again, hoping recognition would stay his hand.

“Thaddeus...”

He leaned closer, his hands braced on the bed on either side of my head. I was trapped beneath him, with no way to escape.

“Thaddeus... that’s supposed to be my name, isn’t it?” he asked suddenly. My eyes widened in surprise.

What had he just said?

“Then tell me—are you someone important to me?”

This man... could it be...

“Or...”

“Ahh!” I cried out as something cold pressed against my neck. I stared down in horror—it was a surgical knife.

“Are you someone I wouldn’t hesitate to kill?”

I looked back at him, my mind reeling.

He... he had lost his memories?