Scribble One

A muscular, rich, and elegant man stepped into the hotel, walking with silent confidence through the lobby. He approached the front desk and asked the receptionist, “How is she? Did she wake up after I left?”

“No, sir,” the man replied.

He gave a silent nod of acknowledgment and glanced toward the elevators.

—

I was lying on the floor. The room around me was a mess. Sunlight pierced through the curtains, warming my closed eyes. A few seconds later, I began to stir, blinking slowly as my surroundings sharpened into view. I sat up—confused. A white dress clung to my body.

Where… am I?

I looked around. The room was unfamiliar. A hotel room, clearly. I stood up, rubbing my head, hoping to remember something—anything. My gaze caught the mirror on my right. My face was touched with light makeup, glitter shimmered around my eyes, and my hair—though now a bit tousled—was clearly styled the night before. I backed away from the mirror, shaken. Nothing made sense.

I turned toward the window and walked over. We were high—very high. A sigh escaped me, just as a knock came at the door.

I opened it.

“Good morning, Mrs. Rosie.”

I blinked. “Mrs.? Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“I work here, ma’am. This room was booked under your name last night.”

“What?!”

“And it came with breakfast. That’s why I’m here.” He gestured toward the cart behind him.

I stared, bewildered. How could I have checked into a hotel and not remember a single thing?

“Okay… thank you,” I said, dazed. “You can leave it here.”

He wheeled the cart into the room and turned to leave. “Have a nice day.”

“You as well.”

Just as he reached the doorway, he paused. “Oh, by the way, Mrs. Rosie—your husband dropped this last night when he was leaving.”

“What?!” I gasped.

He held out a keychain. I took it with trembling fingers.

“My husband?” I said, almost laughing. “I’m not married.”

He looked at me, then at the wedding dress. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to upset you. He was carrying you last night. You were unconscious. He told me you were his wife while I was bringing up the bags.”

My chest tightened.

“He carried me?” I whispered. “Wait… he was in this room last night?”

“Yes. You both arrived just before midnight. He stayed for about three hours—left around 3:00 a.m.”

I froze, unable to speak. The staff member gently asked, “Mrs. Rosie… are you alright?”

“Did he say he’d come back?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

“If you need anything else, don’t hesitate.”

I gave a faint nod and slowly closed the door, eyes fixed on the keychain still in my hand.

I sank onto the couch, heart pounding, tears threatening to fall. My mind was like a mess of scribbles on a blank page. Then I saw it—the diamond ring on my left hand. I pulled it off and looked inside. My name. And another.

Peter.

I gasped and threw the ring onto the carpet, panic rising in my chest.

What is happening?

Just then, my phone rang. I scrambled to grab it. “Love” was calling.

My stomach turned. I don’t have a contact named ‘Love.’

I answered, furious. “Who the hell are you?!”

“Good morning,” came the calm voice. “I’m Peter.”

I froze.

I glanced down at the ring on the carpet.

Peter.

“Peter who?” I asked slowly, dreading the answer.

“Your husband.”

I closed my eyes. I knew it was coming, but still…

“Are you okay, Rosie?” he asked gently.

Silence.

“Can you open the hotel room door?”

I walked slowly to the door and opened it. A tall, muscular man stood there, phone still to his ear. He looked expensive. Polished. Controlled. He looked like Peter—whoever Peter really was.

“Why are you still wearing our wedding dress from last night?” he asked.

“Our… wedding dress? Last night? Did I… Did I marry you just last night?”

“Yes, Rosie. You did.”

I stepped back, heart racing. “What did you do to me last night?”

He paused. No answer.

I pressed again, louder. “What did you do to me?! Why did you leave at 3:00 a.m.? Did you do something to me? I woke up on the floor, Peter!”

“Rosie, calm down,” he said. “You fainted last night, that’s all.”

“How?”

“You just… lost consciousness.”

“You drugged me. You had to do something! I don’t even know you! How would I agree to marry you? I remember nothing from last night!”

I began pacing, hands on my head, trying to remember, grasping at threads of memory. Then I stopped and said coldly, “I’m calling the police.”

“Rosie, please. You’re not well.”

He stepped inside, gently pried the phone from my hand, and tossed it aside, shutting the door behind him.

“What were you doing in my room?” I snapped.

“I didn’t do anything. I put you on the bed. I stayed to make sure you were okay.”

“I woke up on the floor!”

“I swear, I didn’t touch you. If that’s what you’re asking.”

I fell silent for a moment.

“Where is my family?” I asked, softly.

“They’re not here,” he said.

I felt my knees weaken. “Don’t tell me they’re dead…”

“What? No! Of course not. They’re just… in another state.”

“Another state? And they didn’t come to my wedding? You made me marry you without them even knowing?!”

I lunged at him, pulling his hair.

“They know, I swear!” he said, trying to dodge me.

“Then why didn’t they come?!”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe they don’t like me?”

“They’re right. I don’t like you either.” I shoved him toward the door and forced the ring into his hand. “Even if I don’t remember marrying you, I’m done. I want a divorce.”

I pushed him out and slammed the door shut.

I tried to call my sister, but the phone wouldn’t work. I tried again. Nothing. I hurled it across the room.

—

Night fell.

I stood by the window, staring at the Chicago skyline, still wearing the wedding dress. I walked slowly to the mirror and looked at myself.

A flash of memory hit me.

Peter. Saying: “Stop it.”

Me yelling: “What next, you going to kill me?”

Peter replying, “Rosie, calm down.”

The waiter—the same one who brought me breakfast—stood beside him.

“Can I have one?” Peter had asked, pointing to the drinks tray. The waiter nodded, and Peter handed me a glass of water.

“Just calm down, okay?”

I had taken it. Drank it.

I looked in the mirror now, trembling. “He put something in my drink,” I whispered.

I grabbed my phone again. Called him.

No answer.

A knock at the door.

I opened it.

Peter.

He’d been standing there the whole time.

I lowered my phone slowly. “Were you… waiting here?”

“I couldn’t leave you,” he said. “Can you wear the ring now?”

I slapped him hard. “You drugged me!”

His face changed. He grabbed my arms, pulled me slightly off the floor, and pushed past me, shutting the door behind us.

I looked at him… and then it hit me.

“You were the captain. On my flight to Chicago. You passed out mid-trip. You were poisoned.”

His expression softened.

“You saved my life,” he said.

I steadied my breath. “What was in the water last night?”

“You’re starting to remember… that means it’s time I tell you what you need to know.”

He pulled something from his pocket—an FBI badge.

“You overheard things you weren’t supposed to,” he said. “We had to erase them from your memory. Unfortunately, the treatment affected more than it should have.”

“And why are we married?” I asked.

He hesitated. “To keep your family safe.”

My blood ran cold.

“So if I refuse…?”

“They’ll be in danger.”

“What do you want from me?”

“You’re smart. A doctor. You saved my life. I’ve studied your file. Your background is exceptional. You’re also the first person we tested this memory-cleansing formula on.”

“So?”

“So you need to stay with me. For their safety. For your own.”

I was furious. But what could I say?

I walked closer, voice steady. “Tell me the truth. If you didn’t touch me, why did I wake up on the floor?”

“As I said… the drug had side effects. I stayed until 3:00 a.m. to monitor you. I made sure the door was locked. And I ensured your phone wouldn’t connect.”

I stared at him.

“I couldn’t risk it.”

“So I’m a prisoner,” I muttered. “And one of your people—like the breakfast guy—is watching me 24/7.”

“If you want to see it that way,” he replied, “then yes.”

I turned and paced the room, then ran at him and struck his chest. “Let me go! I need my family.”

He caught my arms gently.

“If you leave, Rosie… they die. I’m sorry. This is the only way.”

Tears clouded my eyes as he slowly raised the diamond ring again.

An unspoken ultimatum:

Wear it.

Or lose everything.