Amnesia Visual Novel English Novels & Stories

“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.

Earlier, he was completely at loss about what to do when Jerson finally opened the door for him only to discover Jerson almost completely naked. It had only been a few days since Vishnu had reflected on himself. Whenever Jerson was present he felt at comfort. And he knew he couldn't ignore the fact that someone as cautious as he was felt at ease whenever he was in Jerson’s vicinity. Nevertheless, the only conclusion he could come up with was the same one Noah had told him before: that he and Jerson had known each other for years. His greatest concern, however, was the reason why he had completely forgotten about Jerson while recalling every other detail about his life. Because Noah stated th

Inside her nerves. Fragments kept flashing through her mind. Codes. Voices. Faces she didn’t recognize. And one strange recurring image— A child standing alone inside white light. Crying. She blinked hard, trying to shake it away. Daniel noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?” Amara hesitated. Then quietly— “I keep seeing things.” Michael looked at her instantly. “What things?” “Memories… maybe.” Michael’s expression tightened. “No.” Victor frowned. “No what?” Michael looked directly at Amara.

I was suddenly tempted to ruin the perfection of her skin with the harsh touch of my fingers, or perhaps even with my teeth against the side of her throat. It's strange how your head can forget things. I gazed into her eyes, glimmering from the alcohol, a wide grin stretching across her face, and I could barely recall Amy's features. She was once so deeply etched in my mind, her absence dominating my thoughts, but now her memory seemed hazy, fading into the background. I struggled to remember her smile, the sound of her voice, or anything at all... As I stared into Lilianna's eyes, Amy's memories grew fainter, like distant echoes fading into silence.

“Annie, I’m Lucien Rook. I’m your legal husband. I spent ten years with you! How could you forget me?” Seeing how Lucien was losing it before me, I only found the whole situation ridiculous. I remembered how he had reacted when I was diagnosed with amnesia. He had been overjoyed, acting as if he had won the lottery. Yet, he was acting like he was in such pain before me. What was the point? “Alright, Mr. Rook.” I smiled. “It doesn’t matter to me if you’re Mr. Kaplan or Mr. Rook. Regardless, you don’t exist in my memories. Please stop bothering me.”