Moth to a Flame
“PLEASE no.
“Yes,” she replied with a shaky voice.
“Fuck,” I groaned, completely defeated.
She tensed up with a worried look on her face.
This is un-fucking-believable.
Shit!
I couldn’t believe the words that were about to come out of my mouth.
“Lia, I am about to tell you something, and please, if you love me right here in this moment, do not freak the fuck out. That same night, I left my house drunk as a skunk,” I began.
She stared at me, openmouthed like a statue.
“I completely blacked out that night, having no recollection of where I’d been or what I’d done, but, Lia, I was in an accident. I injured my head so badly I was in a coma for twelve days. I nearly died,” I explained. Then I braced myself for the next words. “Lia, I was your abductor.”
It all made sense. The memory was gone, but the angel’s face was etched into my brain—thus the need for my tattoo. Her eyes darted down to my tattoo and then back to me.
Time stood still as realization came over her.
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