The Suspect Who Stole My Heart

Chloe Bennet

I woke up, gasping for air.

My chest heaved up and down, my heart beating inside my mouth as I desperately looked around. The white ceiling, white blanket, white walls, and the blinding light made me squint.

The loud beeping sound of the machine made the pounding in my head worse. I let out a desperate cry, and a man with a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck walked inside.

"Calm down, kid. You're safe now." The man, who I assumed was the doctor, said. Leaning closer to me, he smiled gently, removing a small penlight from his pocket.

"Do you remember your name, sweetheart?" He asked me, flashing it in my eyes, making me wince.

"Chloe— Chloe Bennet," I answered, clenching my eyes shut.

"Good. Do you know which year it is, Chloe?" He asked me, and I looked at him, confused, and nodded my head.

"It's October, 2025. I just started my junior year." I answered him. "What's going on? How did I end up here?"

I asked him, and he looked at his colleagues, exchanging a look that made dread settle in my gut. Something was wrong, and I could feel it in my bones.

"Listen to us carefully now, sweetheart. And there's no need to panic. You got into a really bad accident and lost your memories of the last six months. It's called retrograde amnesia. Your brain is blocking out the last six months of your memories."

My eyes widened at the doctor's words. Suddenly, sharp headlights flashed at me; I could feel myself in a closed-off space, but nothing made sense. I could hear people screaming my name, but other than that, everything was blank.

But just one word kept echoing in my head. Like a broken tape recorder.

"Julian,"

I whispered, and the doctor looked at me curiously.

"What is it, Miss Bennet? Do you want me to call someone?" He asked me, and I shook my head, looking at me.

"Julian. I want Julian here. But— but I don't know who Julian is." I almost tugged on my hair, feeling the helplessness molding into frustration.

What could be worse than not remembering anything from the last six months, but having a name reverberate in my head of a stranger you don't remember?

"Please take it easy, Miss Bennet. You just woke up from a week-long coma. It's not advisable to pressure your brain right now. Give it some time, and you'll remember everything." He assured me, but I couldn't relax. Not when a name kept bothering me.

Before I could answer him, I saw the door to my room swing open. Mom and Dad rushed inside. The moment our eyes met, I saw my mother breaking into tears. My Dad looked like he had aged drastically when I went into a coma.

"Chloe, my child, are you okay now?" Mom asked me, and I embraced her as tightly as I could with the wires attached around me.

"I don't remember anything from the last six months, Mom." I cried, terrified, and I felt my mother tensing. She rubbed my back, shaking her head as she pulled away from me.

"It's okay, baby. You just woke up. You'll remember everything eventually." She promised me, but the fear in her eyes told me she was as scared as me, if not more.

"But what if I never remember?" The fear was real in my voice, and Dad sat beside me, holding my hands in his warm, gentle ones.

"Then we move on from it, Chloe. You waking up is our biggest relief, kid. It's okay if you can't remember the last six months. We can always build new memories." He said, and I felt hot tears burning my eyes when I saw his eyes tearing up.

Hugging me gently, he let me cry on his shoulders.

After what felt like a couple of minutes, I wiped my eyes and pulled away from him.

"Dad," I whispered, my voice still hoarse and cracked.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Who's Julian?" I asked him, and I saw him looking horrified the moment I mentioned him.

He looked at Mom, who looked equally shocked and terrified. Something wasn't right. But then again, nothing felt right ever since I had woken up from the coma.

"Why do you ask about him, Chloe?" Mom asked him, trying her best to maintain composure, but the tremble in her voice gave away her anxiety and fear.

"Because ever since I woke up, I can't help but hear his name in my head. Again and again. Like a chant. Who's Julian, Mom? Please tell me. Who's Julian?" I desperately pleaded, and Dad's eyes hardened.

"You don't need to worry about him, Chloe. And never mention his name again. Not here. Not in your school. And definitely not outside this house." He warned me, and my eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What are you talking about, Dad? Why are you talking like mentioning his name would invite a disaster in our lives?" I asked him, and I saw him running his hands in his hair helplessly.

"Because the cops are behind him, Chloe. And everyone associated with him is also being interrogated by them." Mom said, and I felt even more confused.

What are they talking about?

And where did the police come from?

"I don't understand, Mom—"

"Julian is the prime suspect in Rachel's murder! And you will stay away from him." Dad said, his voice hard but scared, and I felt my heart drop to my chest.

Tears burned my eyes. Suddenly I couldn't breathe. And soon hot tears rolled down my eyes.

"Chloe, honey, no...." Mom said, embracing me, and I cried in her chest.

"How can Rachel die, Mom? She— she was my best friend."