Chapter Text
The bed I am laid to rest in is comfortable. Yellow gingham sheets crumple beneath my grip and the smell of petrichor overwhelms my senses. Vines climb the walls and seep across the soot-coloured ceiling like varicose veins. Amber light seeps in through, I think, the window. Was the sun setting? My eyes flicker over towards the source of light and I startle at the image which greets me. There is a man sat beside the bed. He too, starts at the shrill noise which escapes me and lifts his gaze from the book in his hand. He is calm. Had he been there for long?
“Oh, you’re awake, thank goodness. I w-was beginning to worry.” His voice is soft. I gaze at him blankly, accusing, confused - and he seems to know that something is amiss. “…If you don’t mind my asking, w-well what I-I’m trying to say is… what do you…remember?” He averts his gaze. His question sends goosebumps over my limbs because truthfully, all that my mind’s eye could see was a deep black void. Memories from my childhood were splintered, even they were fading as quickly as I could recall them, as if they were a dream from which I was waking up.
“What happened?” My voice, unfamiliar to my own ears, is thick with confusion. Wavering. Concern for my wellbeing is at the forefront of my mind and I am ready to flee from this stranger. He knows.
“An accident. I think you bumped your head, I found you, you see.” He is talking fast now, brows furrowed and hands rubbing together. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, beginning the ascent into palpitations.
“Why can’t I remember anything?” My voice is breathy, high in pitch, on the edge of hyperventilation.
“I-I don’t-“ He has a nervous, almost tentative disposition. However, his eyes are sharp even as his demeanour hunches. Had he been here before?
I throw back the blankets, disturbing the array of stuffed animals set neatly at the bottom of the bed. Their cheerful, smiling faces do nothing to quell my rising anxiety, but this man, seems to be experienced with others in my condition, he seems to foresee my actions. He moves towards me, fast, much too fast. I’m not sure what he would have done had I managed to start for the door, though he needn’t have bothered. As I try to stand, my legs give way, collapsing under my own weight. He catches me, firm, strong hands on my upper arms. I look down at my legs, I’m in a white gown, which falls to my knees and my legs are covered in equally white stockings. My gaze lands on his hands on my arms. Compared to him, my complexion is sickly and dull. My eyes find his and he looks content. Without effort I am laid back down. I squirm as he tucks the blanket firmly around my atrophied figure. I grimace, swatting his hands away. It’s as though he doesn’t notice my discomfort.
“You know something.” The statement was not intended as a question. I could still feel my heart racing as giant moths fluttered eagerly in the pit of my stomach. I do not possess the strength to try to rise again.
“I don’t know how it happened, I just found y-“
“If you don’t know what happened then why would you ask me about my memories? You know something.” I spat. Impatient. I have no time for his lies. In spite of my harsh words, my voice is anything but. Hoarse from lack of use. How long have I been here? How long was I asleep?
He seems taken aback, though he quickly regains his composure. His hands are again clasped together, fidgeting. “W-well I um, I checked you over when you were asleep. You had trauma to your head a-and your pupils, well, they were different sizes and not retracting in response to the light so I just thought, um…”
As he rambles, I relax a little. “You’re a doctor?”
“I’m not a healer I’m afraid…” As my face falls, he hurries to add; “But I know how to take care of... well, it’s usually creatures I take care of. I’ve been quite curious about studying the care of Muggles, though, I’ve read a lot on the subject.”
I don’t understand what he’s saying. Perhaps it’s a result of whatever happened to me. “I think I should see a real doctor.”
“What do you remember?” He avoids my question, sitting himself down beside me, too close for comfort. He looks down at me in pity, I don’t blame him. I pity myself. The adrenaline has worn off and made me realise how weak I am, in body and spirit. I try hard, to push myself to remember. It’s like trying to cling on in a hurricane. The remnants of my memories are footprints on a beach. And the tide is coming in.
My cheeks are wet, and I wonder how I know that they are called tears. I cannot hide the anguish and he reads me like an open book. As I begin to cry, he moves to embrace me without inhibition, as though we were close. I wonder if perhaps I once knew him. I take guiltless comfort from his touch; his hands find my hair and he begins to pet me. When I manage to calm myself, I ask between frantic breaths, feeling snot clog my nose. “Who am I?”
He shushes me, reassures me that everything will be okay. But does not answer the question.
“W-Who are you?”
“You call me Newt.”
“Do you know who I am?” I try again.
“Would that make it easier for you?” His hand continues to stroke my hair.
“Yeah.” My tone is resigned.
“Then yes.” There is something underlying in his tone.
“My name?”
He pauses, as though unsure. “I think… the name Amara suits you. It’s such a pretty name.”
I pull back to observe his face. He seems calm, eyes catching mine only for a brief moment. “That’s my name?” My voice is hoarse.
“D-do you like it? If not, we can call you something else, that’s not a problem.”
I frown. “If that’s what my name is, that’s what it is.”
He smiles. “Good. I’ll take care of you Amara, I promise.”
In spite of my unease, I take comfort in his promise. I don’t wish to cause him a disturbance however. “What about my home? If you can show me where I live then I’m sure I can-“
“Well, I um, I don’t quite know where you lived, before.”
“Oh…” I feel myself frown. Perhaps we were not as close as I thought.
“That’s okay though. Head injuries can be dangerous so it will let me keep a close eye on you. Just in case any of your memories come back – and you will tell me, won’t you? If you remember anything, I mean, the brain is very delicate you see.”
I nodded, hopeful that they would return so that I would no longer feel like an empty shell.
“Right, good. Good, I should erm, get you something to eat, would you like that?” I shake my head, feeling quite ill. He frowns, standing, finally giving me space. “You should really try and eat something. Even something small, I said I would take care of you. Wait here.”
“Where is here?” It feels like such an injustice, that I know nothing about myself, nor the person who proclaimed himself my carer. All I have room to feel is disorientated and frustrated.
He smiles again, the amber light makes it look as though there are flames dancing in his eyes. “It’s safe. The safest place in the world.”
He leaves. I feel tired. My eyes wonder around the room, lingering on the wooden door where he left. The walls are grey and dull, the carpet deep and black. Yellow curtains, that matched the bedding, are draped across a high arching window, allowing some light to strain through. Beyond that, it is difficult to see what is outside. I sigh, leaning forward to lay on my stomach and fix the stuffed animals which were knocked askew by my earlier actions. There was little else to do. One of them however, catches my eye and I pick it up. It’s an orange cat with little pumpkins over it. Its smiling face looks up at me as I hold it in my arms and without thinking, I retreated back under the covers with the bear in my arms. In his absence I am left to stare at the ceiling alone with my thoughts, as inconsistent as they are.
It doesn’t take Newt long to return. I catch him glance at the bear in my arms and smiling faintly. He has with him a bowl of mixed fruits. I can’t remember exactly what foods I like. I huff, dropping the bear and raising my hand to take the bowl from him. Instead of handing it to me, he sits, bringing a grape up to my mouth. I scowl at him, moving to snatch the innocent fruit from his hand.
“Ah ah ah.“ His voice is not fit for scalding. Nevertheless, it is quickly apparent that he desires to hand feed me as though I were an animal. Having already found myself in a position of vulnerability, I have no desire to degrade myself further in front of this man. I merely stare at him, defiant. Mustering the strength to stay resilient even as my stomach begins to growl impatiently.
He sighed. “If this is going to work, you must learn to trust me.”
The humiliation! The unjustness of it all. I feel the sting of tears once more pricking my eyes and turned from him. What sick and twisted game was this? I flinch as I feel sudden, though gentle pressure atop of my head. His fingers are intertwined with my locks, quickly finding my scalp and rubbing affectionately. I steal a glance at his face, finding concerned, brilliantly expressive eyes peering at me. The familiar gesture takes me off guard and I am again forced to consider what my relationship with this man could have once been. Perhaps this was as hard for him as it was for I. Perhaps I was being unfair. With a sigh, I open my mouth. He seemed pleased by this. Once I am done eating the fruit he placed in my mouth, I try to ask him a question, though more fruit is pressed against my lips before I can get a word out. He continues bringing fruit to my mouth and I continue to eat until the bowl emptied.
“You can stay here until you’re better.” His voice is almost a whisper.
“When will that be?”
“I-I don’t know really. You can barely even stand as it is. Taking care of others is my job though, so please don’t worry.” He smiles, though it does not reach his eyes.