1 WEEK
Somewhere a bird was singing cheerfully. He considered moving but wasn't sure he even could. He felt like there was a weight sitting on him. His head began pounding, and then more pain fell in behind. His left arm and elbow hurt. Pain shot up his right leg when he tried to move it. His entire body felt like he'd taken a beating. He reached up toward his head, discovering it was bandaged. He opened his eyes. That was an even worse idea, causing his headache to retaliate with more, intense pain.
He let out a soft groan of agony. He just wanted to move but every move was sheer pain.
"There, there," he heard a woman say.
He felt what he was laying on move – oh, he was on a bed. Bed, right? His mind wasn't sure that was the right word.
"Wha…" He couldn't find the word. His jaw hurt to use it.
"Shh, shh," she said. Something cool and soft rested across his forehead. "You played billiards down a hill, honey. What were you thinking?"
He tried to find an answer. "I don't know," he whispered.
"My poor love. Does it hurt a lot still?"
He started to nod. That made his neck, head, and face hurt. "Yes," he whispered.
"I'll get something for the pain. Lay still, my love."
The bed moved and he heard her walk away. He tried his eyes again. He endured the pain to look around him. He was in a bedroom, but he didn't recognize anything. Where was he? Who was the woman?
Wait…
Who was he?
He saw a person walk back into the room and she sat down. He felt her rub something on his arm and then there was a prick of pain in his arm.
"That will help with the pain, Gus."
"Gus?"
"Yes. Gus. You."
"I'm... Gus?"
"Yes. You don't remember your name?"
"No."
"Oh, my love!" She leaned over him and he felt lips on his cheek. "My love."
He tried to pull away from her. He didn't know this woman. He wasn't sure his name was Gus, but he was sure he didn't know her.
"Who are you?"
"You don't remember me? Your wife?" She sounded incredulous. "Your Isabelle?"
He hesitated. Did he have a wife? No. He didn't have a wife. Did he? Maybe he did.
"What's my name?"
"August McGregor. You prefer Gus, though."
That didn't feel right. "No. That's not…" He felt strange. The pain was starting to ease. "What did you give me?"
"Morphine."
He tried to ask something else, but his mouth didn't want to work. He was losing his ability to think straight.
"I'm not… I'm not…" He fell asleep.
Isabelle stroked his hair, watching him sleep. She was a very plain, ordinary, sandy brunette. The only unusual thing about her was a beauty mark on her left cheek, just below her cheekbone. She smiled suddenly. The lies were starting to sink in and soon his past self would be erased. Years of training had given her the perfect skill set to create her perfect life.
"Sweet dreams, love."
Isabelle stood and walked out to the kitchen. She sat down at a breakfast bar and pulled a needle off the syringe, then sat the syringe next to a vial labeled 'dopamine.' She tossed the needle in a can and then resumed looking through his phone. Satisfied she threw it on the floor and smashed it with the heel of her shoe.
She picked up the pieces and threw them into the fireplace. His wallet, Phoenix ID, driver's license, and credit cards were already burning, melting his identity away.
He belonged to her now.