Amnesia Visual Novel English Novels & Stories

Catherina asks Levi as though she was ready to lend him a helping hand. 'I have partial amnesia", Levi said. "What do you mean you have partial amnesia", she asked looking rather confused "I don't remember Catherina, Bethany wants us to go on a vacation to where our love story started and I don't remember that, all I remember is that I loved her but as some point she go hurt by something I did, I don't even remember what it is, so I need you to tell me everything you know, maybe I'd just remembered something."

“Later, I am entering a lavatory lined with filthy brown tiles. It is devoid of any furniture save for a grungy, grotesque bathtub. Sitting in it is a woman, her back to me. I watch her rise from the bath, water dripping down her violin-shaped back. She turns to stare at me with black eyes. Then she walks towards me, naked and dripping. She is the one with a cube breast. Her name is Vera. I don’t know how I know this. The other two, their names are Mira and Marcella. They come out of the walls, their once-flat forms gaining dimension as they push out. They join their sister, one coming from the left, and one from the right, as if to ambush me. I ask them, ‘What are you?’ Their response is li

He'd rather live to be blind than seeing but not remembering the beautiful girl who held magic on her fingertips and smelt like vanilla. A depressed Amelia sat on the beach, the night only shy away from hitting twelve as tears continued to leave her blue eyes, her mind replaying the terrible scene in her mind. The confusion written on his face will haunt her forever, what should've been a happy event turned twisted dark as the love of her life cease to remember her. Every that they have been through simply was just gone. Was it selfish of her that she'd rather have him blind than seeing and forgetting her? She didn't think so. She wiped some more tears off her face and placed her head in her

Kim said, his eyes wide with knowing amusement. They moved to the dining table, the silence punctuated by the clinking of cutlery. Nate finally broke the silence. "I found something interesting " "What is it, that she loves you," Kim teased. "Fuck off, I am serious, she has amnesia," he said, his voice low. Kim stopped mid-bite, his eyes widening. "Amnesia? What are you talking about?" "She can't remember her past," Nate explained, his gaze fixed on the swirling noodles in his bowl. "There's something… broken. Something missing."

“I don’t want to talk about her.” “Are you sure? You don’t want to talk to me about any . . . feelings you may have about her? I know what it’s like to have your own mother hurt you.” “You do? You remember your mother?” Tom asked with bewilderment. “You don’t have amnesia anymore?” “No, darling, I still have amnesia but I remember things from time to time. It comes sporadically.” “What does sporadica . . . ly mean?” “It means occasionally. I had a memory of my mother . . . doing to me what your mother did to your father.”

She added. Victor looked frozen. Elliot looked shocked. Elena covered her mouth. But Adrian, Adrian didn’t move. He simply stared at her. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully. Amara swallowed. “I don’t remember everything.” She said. Her voice was small now. “But I know that place.” She looked down at her shaking hands. “I know the walls.” She looked toward Victor. “I know the room.” Then she whispered: “And I know Nathan.” Silence fell deeply around them.

"If I’m still alive, then it can’t be that bad!” Aunt laughed and said, "Summer, you're going to live a very long life!" The surgery had gone really well. The doctor said I might lose some memories, but I still recognized everyone I had seen so far. Even though I sometimes felt like I had forgotten some things, I did not really want to remember them anyway. In fact, I thought forgetting might make me even happier. Once I was out of danger, I moved to a regular room. With Aunt looking after me, I started feeling better really fast.

The morning sun crept weakly through the mansion’s tall windows, casting long streaks of gold across the marble floor. The world outside seemed calm—mockingly so—while inside Damien’s mind, chaos reigned. He hadn’t slept. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes—blurred, half-formed memories that didn’t align with Elena’s perfect narrative. A laughter in the kitchen. The faint scent of jasmine. A woman’s voice—Amelia’s voice—whispering his name not with desire, but with devotion.

“Your amnesia makes everything more interesting, Nick. Imagine when your memory comes back. What other surprises might crawl out of the past?” The back of my neck felt like someone had sprinkled it with ice. Sienna scratched her head with her pacifier. “Amne… what?” she asked, glancing up. “Is that like anime?” “No, sweetheart,” I said before my brain caught up with my mouth. My voice sounded lighter than it felt. “It’s just a grown-up word for… misplacing things.” Lorenzo turned.

Richard would add, with eyes shining at exactly the right degree to impress journalists when necessary. I never found it strange that none of those memories came with scent, texture, or any physical sensation attached. They were films projected on a wall, not something lived in the body. When I questioned that lack of visceral connection, Harvey was always there with the perfect explanation: “Amnesia is like that, darling. Some things come back, others don’t. What matters is what we’re building now.” “Now” meant Boston. The penthouse. The honeysuckle scent. Chopin. Good girl.