Marco’s POV “Depends on what you mean by that, Marco. You never asked, remember?” Betty replies as Marco rushes to meet Sarah, who, for one, has a vague expression on, staring weakly at them both.“Get away from her,” Betty threatens, rushing into the dumped clothes by the sofa chair and leading Sarah out.“You know how worried I was that I lost her and yet you took advantage of the situation by forcing me to have—”“You think I was just going to stand back and watch your plan ruin everything I worked for? Please snap out of that and be thankful. I had to take her out of the hospital while you busied yourself with disguising as a doctor for an escape. So pathetic.”Marco falls silent as he watches Betty tuck Sarah back into bed. He doesn’t know how to feel. He really believed he lost her. But there’s something about this new Sarah. She doesn’t seem to recognize anyone. Especially him.“We’re taking you home, Maria. You’ll get enough rest now,” Betty tries to calm her down but Sarah s

Sarah Captivity, addiction, were the only things she had to fight. Now a new baggage has been added to the number—memory loss. For more than two months, living has been a daily torture, passed around different Mafia lord like flying baseball and an aggressive glove engulfing her at every throw. It’s hard enough for her that her drug addiction cannot be satisfied, her new captor doesn’t seem to be any different from the rest. So much for his unnecessary handsome features. He sure doesn't have any intentions of protecting her. Here she is, stuck to yet another bed in cuffs. On the bright side, at least clothes are not a taboo on her body unlike the others. With a throbbing head that wouldn’t stop since her discharge from the hospital, she swings down a side of her body towards the edge of the bed to reach for a glass of water. Maybe it could relief her a bit. Someone had broken into her room earlier. It doesn't help that her memory fails yet again. Her captors claim to be friends of h

MarcoWith one arm pressed tightly against his bleeding wound, Marco clenches his teeth in pain as he fires two precise shots at the speeding motorcycle approaching him. The third shot finds its mark, sending the bike crashing to the ground and its helmeted rider sprawling. The bike chimes aggressively as the wheels roll in the air. Marco quickly ducks behind his car, narrowly avoiding a hail of bullets aimed his way as he fires another shot. Amidst the chaos, a desperate plea reaches his ears, “How much were you paid? I'll give you triple, just let me go.”Marco hesitates, his heart pounding. He isn't sure of the identity of his victim. He cautiously approaches the fallen rider, nudging aside the discarded weapon with his foot. Standing over the quivering body, he keeps his gun aimed steadily at him. The man beneath him looks like he's been sufficiently neutralized by the gunshot wounds.“How much can you afford?” Marco inquires, a cruel glint in his eyes. He tugs at the victim's l

SarahAnd once more, my abilities surprise me even more as I drive down to the bar. At this time of the night, when I expect the place to be deserted, I see people flocking in and out of a nearby bar while I pull over abruptly, knocking down a trash bin. Turning off the car engine, I step out, with Marco’s phone in my hands hoping to find Betty before I’m tempted to call. She seems to be the second person I can trust. Or at least that knows me enough. I’m desperately in need of some clearing out. The condition of my memory makes it difficult to think of the right decision. It feels strange to be among people, as I manipulate my way through the clumsy crowd, the stench of pipe and whiskey fills the entrance as I walk into the bar, my arms wrapped around my body. Everyone is too busy to notice me but I feel so exposed after weeks of being in confinement.“There you are. You aren’t a bad driver after all,” I hear a voice call out, startling me as I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning aro

Sarah I stare at the navigation screen, then the voice adds, “Stay right where you're. I'll come get you.” A beep follows immediately after and I'm left with a black screen and the thumping of my heart, waiting in silence for God knows who. I take another peep out. The walkways have become more deserted. Few street men walking in groups, staggering around with bottles of strong drink in their hands. I suck in another breathe with my eyes closed, hating the temporary darkness my memory has thrown me into. Just as I fling my eyes open , I see a the headlight of a coming vehicle , far ahead, but bright enough to cause me to squint. That should be him. My brother. I rush out of the vehicle, running toward the coming vehicle, since the sight behind me isn't so friendly. The car parks abruptly just beside me as I stop running. Hoping to see what should have been my brother or someone that looks maybe like me. A man come running out of the vehicle, leaving the e