I Faked Amnesia Novels & Stories

Cole Sullivan's intermittent amnesia has lasted for three years. Every so often, he'll forget me and fall hopelessly in love with my younger sister, Roselle White. The night before our wedding, he loses his memory again. I sit right beside his hospital bed, yet his eyes pass over me as if I weren't there and land once again on Roselle. Mom and Dad have long since gotten used to smoothing things over. "Rach, you know about Cole's condition. Don't take it personally." I make an excuse to leave. Halfway down the hall, I realize I've forgotten my phone. I've just reached the door when I hear my family laughing and talking inside the room. "So, Cole, how do you plan to tell Rachel about your

A car accident leaves my boyfriend, Ben Cullen, with temporary amnesia. When he wakes up, he's convinced that my best friend, Jean Lyle, is his fiancée. The doctors warn us not to upset him, so I have no choice but to let Jean play along. We agree it's only an act. Once Ben gets his memory back, everything will go back to normal. But six months later, he still doesn't remember me. One day, I come across a post on a local forum. "I lost my memory after a car accident and mistook another woman for my girlfriend. Now I'm in love with her. How do I tell my real girlfriend?" The top reply says, "Easy. Keep pretending you have amnesia. You can stay with the new girl, and if you ever change yo

he said, his voice breaking slightly, "why let me believe you were lost. Why let me sit beside your bed explaining your own marriage back to you like a stranger." I sat down heavily across from him, my hands pressed together, trying to find some way to explain something I barely understood myself. "Because the amnesia was the only version of me that ever let itself be gentle with you," I said. "Do you understand what I'm saying. Not the injury changing who I was. The forgetting itself, becoming a kind of permission I'd never given myself before. I could hold your hand without the weight of two years of guilt sitting behind it. I could ask if I'd been good to you without already knowing, with

"But there's one thing I don't understand, Bernard. Isn't dissociative amnesia supposed to completely wipe away the memory?" "Yes. Although, in some rare cases, people can claim false identities of the last thing they remember or a special memory. Things like these are triggered by events like war, trauma, abuse, stuff like that." Bernard says. "But then, if she was to conjure a memory, wouldn't it be based on some memories already built up? As far as I'm concerned, I've never met that woman." Bernard said. "I've been wondering the same thing, that's why I used the word Miss on her." Bernard answers.

Gunther begged, and his hold softened, as if he was worried he would break me. “It hurts me so deeply that it was my own parents who brought you so much pain and misery in your life. Yet, I couldn't even avenge you against them for what they had done to you and your family. I was not strong enough to kill them for you.” “I faked my amnesia so that my mother could finally let you go and stop harming you. But, since I woke up from the accident four years ago, I have never been the same. I have to pretend to everyone around me that I don't know or remember you. It was the loneliest and most depressing time of my life. I felt so lonely and alone.”

"No Doctor. But you can't write her off like this. Take a look at her, she doesn't show any sign of recognition around anyone. It's like she doesn't see us. This can't be normal." The man listened with rapt attention until she was done. "Have you ever heard of pretend amnesia?" When she shook her head no, he continued. "It's when someone, especially PTS patients try to get rid of their memories by pretending they didn't happen. They can end up convincing themselves that a certain phase or all their life didn't happen." What the!? "People with deep secrets or long buried trauma do it too. Bottom line is, they develop pretend amnesia at best and multiple personality disorder at worst."

Both women were bundled up in heavy cloaks over their woolen dresses. “I think the best plan is to get help from someone in authority, like the police or a hospital. You’ll need to pretend you have amnesia.” Hera bent down and picked up a flat stone from the ground. “What’s amnesia?” "Act like you don’t remember anything." "How am I supposed to do that?" "If the cops grab you, just say you can’t recall anything except waking up wherever you are," Hera explained. "Mention that your head hurts and you think you might have fallen. They’ll likely take you to a hospital for some tests."

He paused to refill his glass, and I suspected it was done deliberately. "Even better?" I couldn't wait to hear the rest of it. "She didn't lose her memory completely. Something called selective amnesia, so I'm told. And so she remembers nothing of her current life. Just her past and you." I was dispirited immediately. "But... I—" "She only remembers events before you cheated." Hope blossomed again. "So she remembers me as her fiancé." He nodded. The smile on his face vanished as he leaned forward, his face almost in mine. "You had better do it right this time, Fynn Idris Delson, or I'll officially disown your stupid ass and woo Zyliah myself."

After five years of marriage, I found out my husband was in love with my best friend, the same one who stole my fiance. Betrayed by both of them, I decided to fake my death and disappear. There were two days left. After I sent the email, Lloyd Becker walked into the study. Just as I closed the email about my fake death plan, he gently hugged me from behind and casually looked at my screen. “Sending work emails?” “Yeah, just checking some work plans.” I tried to sound natural and smiled at him.

I wished I could remember but no matter how much I craved it, it never came. “Blaine made sure it felt impossible to remember.” The man replied. My stomach dropped. “What did he do?” “Well he faked his own death,” the man said quietly. “At a time when you and Roland were living your best life, he found his way back into your life and into everything that was supposed to be Roland’s because you had amnesia.” The words hit like a physical blow. I staggered backwards without meaning to. Faked his death? “No,” I breathed again, but it sounded different now. It was less of my denial and more of shock.