Locked Out of Heaven

A Piece of the Puzzle

"Taehyung, I have no idea what could possibly be causing you so much stress and heartache, but no matter what it is, I'm here for you. You aren't going to lose me, do you hear me? You're the only friend I've made since losing Olivia, everyone I knew pretty much forgot about me when I gave up on myself. So whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me, unless you choose to walk away from this friendship."

~{}~

Two days had passed since I received the painting, and I'd spent a good part of them online, researching what types of questions an amnesia patient should ask to help with their memories. Unfortunately, nothing had changed since the last time I'd researched. There were no right or wrong questions, because no two people suffered the same.

Aside from that, I had just looked up Hansen's Art Gallery, and did a quick scroll of the website, but it seemed as if it hadn't been updated in awhile. 

Well, now seems like as good a time as any to take a taxi to the gallery, and talk to the owner... just as soon as I got myself dressed and presentable.

Twenty minutes later, I stepped off the elevator and walked to the doors leading outside. I stood there for a minute, taking a deep breath. For the first time since my walk right after getting home from the hospital, I stepped out into the world, hoping with everything in me that I could find something out today that might help me remember more of my life. 

After a few minutes of waiting, I was able to wave down a taxi, and I gave the driver the address of the gallery, settling back into the seat and buckling my seatbelt.

As we moved along the busy streets, stopping for red lights and zipping through green,  I listened to all the noises of the city, horns blaring, people shouting, sirens wailing, and I felt a strange sense of deja vu. But that was most likely because I had traveled to and from work this way in the past. New York was a big, noisy city, and this was normal.

Finally, the taxi was pulling up in front of a building, and I saw the elegant lettering on the window letting me know that we had arrived at Hansen's Art Gallery. 

My stomach was in knots as I paid the driver and climbed out of the car, sliding my purse strap over my shoulder. I took another deep breath, and walked to the double doors, pulling one side opened and stepping inside.

If I had hoped for a barrage of memories to hit me, well, it didn't happen. Nothing at all looked familiar about this place. It was as if I'd stepped in here for the very first time.

I looked around, seeing the walls mostly bare, and there wasn't another person in sight. I walked a bit further into the room, listening for any sounds coming from anywhere. But it was quiet. Too quiet.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

I heard a bit of noise coming from behind a curtain hanging from the doorway towards the back, and suddenly a short, slightly round man appeared from behind the curtain, straightening his suit jacket as he did.

But as he looked up, his mouth dropped opened, and he stood staring at me for a moment.

I tried to think of something to say, but I didn't get the chance.

"Samantha Sloane..."

"I..."

How totally brainless of me to have forgotten that this man was going to recognize me.

"Yes, but...I'm sorry, I don't-"

"I know," he nodded, "you don't remember me. I heard about your accident. I'm so glad you're okay, despite the fact that you can't remember anything of your past."