Page 36 of Ghost Hunted

I’m shivering, more from fear than from the cold night air, but he takes off his coat and wraps it around me. “I don’t remember,” I say helplessly. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Sure you do,” he soothes, kissing my forehead. “You remember the brown walls. You remembered about the bikers when you called Piper.”

I blink, trying to force away the confusion. “Did… did I?”

“Did you what?”

“Did I call her?”

As soon as I speak the words, I remember that I did. But Logan looks at me, concern etched in his every feature.

“Are you having trouble with your memory again, baby?” he asks softly.

I bite my lip. “I… I’m not sure.”

“Do you remember everything that’s happened today? Quill, Piper… me? Do you remember the explosion?”

“Y-yes.” I think so.

“You remember telling me about the masked bikers tonight, don’t you?” he insists. “And that they were chasing us earlier?”

“Uhm…”

I do remember telling him about the masked bikers; I don’t remember why, though. I don’t know if I remember that they chased us until he spoke of it, though.

“Well, you have to remember the bazooka. Don’t you?” His mouth twists into a little smirk, but I can tell it’s superficial.

What bazooka?

Fear pushing down on me, I reach up to him and grab a fold of his shirt.

“What’s happening to me, Logan?” I don’t mean to scare him, but I’m too terrified to keep it to myself any longer. “Why can’t I… why can’t I remember the things that just happened? I haven’t been injected in a very long time…”

“Shh.” He strokes my hair. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to fix you. Okay?”

I close my eyes, the distant memory growing sharper. Sharper even than anything that’s happened today.

It’s still fragmented, still confusing, but it’s sharp enough that I know I didn’t dream it.

It’s real. I had another daughter. I have no idea how, but I had her, and now, she’s gone, and I don’t know what happened to her.

The old, painful refrain beats against my chest.

I’m a bad mother. Selfish, manipulative. A bad, a terrible mother.

How could I have let them take my daughter? What kind of a mother forgets her own child?

“Hey.” Logan’s warm voice brings me back to reality. He seems to know exactly what I’m thinking. “Hey, remember what Piper said. You’re a victim. You’ve been a prisoner for eighteen years. It’s not your fault, Lia. It’s mine.”

I shake my head, but I try to wipe the traces of my pain from my face. I don’t want him to feel guilty over my shortcomings.

He was right to be furious. He was right to want to kill me. How could I forget the people I’m supposed to love?

No drug can possibly be potent enough to excuse that.

“Baby.” Logan hums a quiet melody in my ear. A melody that had been erased from my brain, but which now brings back painfully clear memories of me lying in bed with Aurora, as he sat beside us and sang us to sleep.

I would give anything to return to those days. But they’ve been ripped from me. From all of us. It’s too cruel. Too unfair.