The Memory

THE MEMORY REMAINS

By

Linda Bennie

She couldn't remember how she got there, as she looked around the room.

“Honey, have you seen the screwdrivers?”  A man walked into the room.  “The last time I saw them was in the garage, but I can't find them!”

“Wh…what?”  She stammered.

“Are you okay?”  He sat on the sofa next to her.  “Did you have a good nap?  You always have a problem waking up.  I'll get you a drink of cold water.  That will help.”

It was a normal sitting room.  Big bay window on one wall, overlarge fireplace on the wall in front of her, TV in the corner between, bookcase on the wall behind her and double doors on the other.  The man, she couldn't for the life of her remember him, had walked through these wide open doors.  She glimpsed a staircase as he walked back into the room, glass in hand.

“Here you go, sweetie,” he held her a glass.  “Drink that and you'll feel better.”

“Thanks,” she was thirsty and finished the whole glass.

“Good girl!”  He exclaimed as he sat down next to her.  “We have a loose socket in the bedroom so I need a screwdriver to fix it.  I swore I had them on Saturday morning and put them back in the garage.”

When she didn't respond he sat beside her and touched her hair.  Inwardly, she shuddered.

Something with this picture was so wrong!  

He reached under her chin and turned her head to face him.  She kept her gaze lowered.

As he moved forward to kiss her, she jumped up.

“No!”  She cried.

“What's wrong, sweetie?”  He stood up, his face full of concern. 

“What's my name?”  She demanded.

He stared at her, emotions mixed.

“Sweetie, sit back down, please,” he reached for her arm.

“You didn't answer!”  She brushed his arm away.  “I need to get out of here!”

She tried to push past him but he held her in place.

“Please, sit down,” he pleaded.  “I'll explain everything.”

Somehow, knowing she would not be able to leave, she sank back onto the sofa.

He sat next to her, running his fingers through his thick dark hair.  He sighed.

“Two years ago you were in an accident and lost your memory,” he began.  “It came back over time then you had a seizure.  When you came round your memory was gone again.  Every time this happens I have to explain to you and show you our life together.”

Throughout his explanation, she shook her head, not believing him.

“Your name is Beth Anders,” he picked up a remote control and switched on the TV.  “I’m your husband, James.  We have two kids, a boy and a girl, ages nine and eight.  They're at school, thankfully, as it upsets them to see you like this.”

He switched to the hard drive and pressed play.

“Watch,” he pointed to the screen.

At first she refused to look, then her eyes moved quickly to the TV when she heard laughter.  Her laughter.  This, at least, was the truth.

Her life with James flashed through her brain and into her soul.  She saw her pregnancies and the birth of both children.  Birthdays and Christmases played out for her.

After her accident and through her recovery, James recorded her every day and told her he loved her, over and over again, until the film ended.

This was irrefutable evidence that James told her the truth.  She had to accept that, didn't she?

“What happened to me?”  She blurted, wanting to know and not, dreading what she would hear.

“We don't need to go through that just now,” James' voice and face were pained.  “Let's have a cuppa and some cake, huh?  Then I'll tell you everything.”

As he stood, Beth jumped up.

“You stay here, sweetie,” James tried to coax her back onto the sofa.  “Rest.  I'll bring the coffee through.”

“No, no,” she waved his arms away.  “I'll help.  I should be able to find my way in a kitchen.”

James shrugged his shoulders and walked through into the hall and then the kitchen.  There were notes everywhere!  Every cupboard, drawer and jar had printed instructions stuck onto the surface.

Beth laughed, finding this funny.  James grinned back at her.

Such a lovely smile, she thought.  I can see why I fell in love with him.

As they sat at the breakfast bar, eating their cake and drinking their coffee, James regaled her with funny stories.  By the time they finished, she had warmed to him.

“Now for the bad part,” James looked at her, eyes full of sorrow.   “Sorry, Beth.  You were beginning to trust me, but you wanted to know earlier.  Before I start, please believe me, this is as painful to me as it is for you.”

Her eyes searched his face.  Again, she could see the pain he has been through…and still is!  She appreciated how it must affect him.  After all, when she goes through the episodes of not remembering, at least she is out of it for a while.  The strain on James, and the kids, must be horrendous. 

James hesitated, his eyes searching hers.

“Please, tell me, James,” she asked as she put her hand over his.

He breathed deeply.

“Okay,” he began.  “We worked together, both of us were Radiographers.  I still am, but I'm on sick leave so that I can take care of you.  When we were on the same shift we travelled together.  

“That night we went over the back road from the hospital.  The traffic was a nightmare and we both thought it would be easier.  We rounded a corner and there was a motorcyclist…” James stood up and poured a glass of water from the tap on the fridge door.  He drank a little as he sat back down.  Again, he ran his fingers through his hair.

The sudden dread Beth felt was like a sickness building in her stomach.

“He…came around the corner…bent so low, they reckoned he was going at one hundred miles per hour.  One minute we were laughing at what a patient said, the next the guy on the bike…well…he fell off in…front…and we…ran over…him!  We didn't…our car ran straight over the other side of the road and we…hit the grass verge and…then…the…uh, tree,” James took another sip of water with a shaking hand.

Beth's hand had flown to her mouth, horror etched on her face.  She couldn't speak.

“The guy on the motorbike, Harry Bridges, his name was…he was killed instantly.  You were unconscious as we hit the tree on your side.  Your leg was broken, lots of internal bleeding…they operated on you for eight hours.  I broke my collarbone and had a collapsed lung.”

Beth reached for his half empty glass and sipped, her mouth so dry she thought she would vomit.

“After the police did their investigations, they told me that I wasn't to blame.  Harry was.  He was going too fast, had been leaning over too low and on the white line in the middle of the road.

“I still feel so, so guilty though!”  James put his hands over his face, as if to hide from the horrors.

“It was touch and go whether you would pull through.  The idea of killing someone, even accidentally,  was such a nightmare!  But, the thought of hurting you, losing you…was so much worse!”

Tears streamed down his cheeks.

Beth quickly moved to beside him and wrapped her arms around his neck.  He clung to her until his tears dried.

“I'm sorry, Beth,” his anguished eyes looking into hers.  “I really should add this bit to my recording.  It won't help alleviate my pain, but might be a bit easier on me.”

“James, I'm so sorry you have to go through this again and again!  It can't be easy, not knowing from one minute to the next whether I'm alright.”

James pulled at her hand and kissed its back.

“I would go through hell itself if it meant having you as my wife,” his voice was gruff.

Beth came to a decision.  He said he was her husband and she wanted to show him what this meant to her.  She took both his hands and led him upstairs.  On the landing, she hesitated.   

James understood.  She didn't know what room was theirs.  Putting one arm behind her knees, he lifted her up and carried her then gently lay her on the bed.

As they made love, Beth couldn't feel any emotion towards him.  She wondered if this was normal but she didn't want to hurt his feelings.  

Why did he wear a condom?  This should have had alarm bells ringing loudly in her head.  However, she was faking it for him and her mind was still coming to terms with her memory loss.

When it was over, James went straight into the shower.   No hugs, no kisses, no sex afterglow.

Was this really how this worked?  Had it always been like this?  So many thoughts flowed through her mind.

“When are the kids home?”  She asked when he came back into the room, only a towel covered from his waist down.

“They're away with mum and dad for the week,” he said absently.

“Oh, okay,” Beth swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up.  Just as quickly, she sat back down again.  Her legs were shaking and she suddenly felt dizzy and sick.

“You look like death warmed up,” James felt her forehead.  “Back into bed with you.  I'll bring you a nice chamomile tea.”

He helped her swing her legs back into the bed and pulled the quilt over her.  After putting on his clothes, he left.

As she lay there, slowly regaining her strength, she heard him in the kitchen.  She realised this was the first time she had been alone since waking, that must be, what, about three hours?

I need to try and remember my life before then!  Think, Beth!  What happened this morning…or yesterday?  Did I go out anywhere?  See anyone else?  She closed her eyes.

It was no use!!  Trying as hard as she could, any other memories escaped her.

She jumped as she felt someone sitting on the bed.

“Did I scare you?”  James asked.  

“I…just closed my eyes…for a second,” somehow, she didn't want to tell him about her mind search.

He stared at her with a slight smile on his lips.  His eyes, however, looked dead.

Suddenly, she was terrified of him!  Was it her mind playing tricks on her?  She wished she was far away from here…and from James.

“Here, drink your tea.  It will make you feel better.”

She sat up and, as she took the cup from him, her hand shook slightly, spilling a drop on the quilt.

“Steady!”  James held his hands towards hers.

“It's fine,” she said quickly.  “Hands are not shaking now.”

She held up her left hand and smiled at him.

“See?”

Don't let him see you're afraid, Beth!  She thought as she took a sip of her tea.  James sat on the edge of the bed talking to her as she drank it all.  All the while, she wished he had left her on her own.  She could have then poured the tea into the plant pot on top of the dresser then tried to find a way out of this house.

“Good girl!”  He grinned as he took the empty cup from her.  “Now lie back down and rest, sweetie, and I'll fix that light switch.”

“I need to get up,” she struggled against him as he pushed her down.  “I have things to do…”

Her voice trailed off.  What things, Beth?  You have no idea what needed taken care of.

The look on James’ face told her he would have none of that.

“Lie down.  Rest.  There is nothing that can't be done another day.  The light switch is the only job I need to do.  We'll then have lunch and watch some movies.  You'll like that.”

She was actually feeling tired now.  As she slipped into a dreamless sleep she felt him touch her lips gently then the bed moved as he stood up.

James watched her for another ten minutes then, once sure she was sleeping, he quietly left the room.

They had watched him for a few days now.  A neighbour across the street saw him at one o'clock in the morning as he carried another woman up the steps and into his house.  This particular neighbour was so worried she had CCTV set up to watch his movements.  Every so often he would carry another woman into his house and the neighbour never saw them leave.  When she showed the police, they immediately set up an around the clock surveillance.  Too many women were disappearing and this was the best lead they had.  They were sure this was their man.  They felt it in their water.  A search warrant was in place.  All they needed was a single clue.

Suddenly, a piercing scream came from the house.  This was it!

Police surrounded the house quickly while the detectives rang the doorbell.  When there was no response DI Bill Hargreaves kept his finger on the button while DI Paul Chalmers hammered on the door.

“Okay, okay, I'm coming!”  They heard the man.

“Yes?”  He asked as he opened the door.

“James Anders?”  Bill asked.

“Yes.”

“We have reason to believe you are holding a young woman without her consent.  Here is a search warrant giving us the right to search these premises.”

“Okay, I guess you better come in!”  James’ response was abrupt.

The detectives and their back up piled into the house.  Within thirty minutes the house, garden, garage and hut had been searched.  They became increasingly frustrated as they couldn't find anything.  The detectives currently stood with James in the basement while officers searched through everything.  All throughout the search, James kept his cool.

“Well, we're sorry to bother you, Mr Anders,” Bill reluctantly had to concede to their mistake.

They chatted to James as the rest of the officers made their way upstairs.  There was a lull in their conversation as they headed to the stairs.

For several minutes Paul could hear a small scraping noise but thought it had been the officers searching.  Now, it was more pronounced.

“What's that?”  He stopped.  Bill could also hear it!

James paled.

“It, uh, it must be noise from upstairs, uh, with the other officers searching.”

Paul didn't hear him as he followed the sound.

“Here!  Under this shelving unit!”  He pulled at the unit while Bill called upstairs for help.  As the other officers ran down the stairs they stopped James trying to get up into the house.

Several officers helped Paul tear down the unit.  Underneath was a trapdoor.  He tore it open and flashed his torch down into the hole.

The room was small with what looked like an operating table and instruments on a trolley beside it.  The woman was tied to the table, with duct tape stuck over her mouth and around her head, and was too weak to try and get free.  All she could do was scratch on the side of the table until her fingers bled.  She cried with relief as she saw the detective jump down into the room.

Paul almost choked in horror as he untied her.  A small handsaw with serrated edges had been jammed up inside her vagina, her left femur had been sawn through just under her hip with only her intact femoral artery still in place.  James has started on her right leg, with a gash about four inches long at the top of her leg.  Blood dripped into a channel underneath.  The stench of dead meat and blood was overwhelming.

He was amazed the woman was still alive!

It took Forensics several weeks to excavate the room under the basement.  They discovered that the walls were made of body parts, blood, earth and concrete.  When finished, the room was twice its original size.  In a cold storage unit on the outskirts of town the body pieces were slowly matched through dental records, DNA, fingerprints, tattoos and any other identifying markers they could find.  They counted twenty three bodies.

James had painstakingly downloaded several videos of women and spent hours cutting them into a one hour long video.  Whenever he kidnapped a woman he used artificial intelligence and superimposed their faces into his original video.  The women would still be drugged, and shocked by his story about memory loss, and wouldn't look too closely at his editing.

It was a clever, but sadistic, way to gain the trust of the women.

Beth Richards, he used the women's own first names, spent several weeks in hospital recuperating.  They pinned her femur bone and grafted as many veins as they could.  Luckily, her leg was saved.  Her insides were ripped and it was doubtful she would be able to have a sex life or children in future.  Her mental scars were deeper, however, and may never heal.  

Right now she was glad to be alive.

THE END

WORDS:  2869