Each week, I send out a story via my email newsletter. Each story is around 1000 words, sometimes less, sometimes more. The stories are in a variety of genres: supernatural, thriller, sci-fi, horror, and sometimes romance, and all of my stories typically feature a gay protagonist.
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This is story number 26 of the series. Enjoy!
Lost between Lies
The first thing he noticed was the smell—stale antiseptic, something metallic, and a hint of artificial lemon trying and failing to mask it all. His head throbbed, a slow, nauseating pulse in his skull. When he tried to move, pain seared down his spine, and he let out a groan.
A nurse appeared, offering a gentle smile. “You’re awake. That’s good. Do you know your name?”
His mouth was dry, his tongue sluggish. “I…” His throat clenched. He had nothing. Not even a letter or a sound to grasp onto.
The nurse’s face remained neutral, but there was something in her eyes. Pity. “You were found unconscious in an alley two nights ago. Beaten badly. No ID, no phone. The police are still investigating.”
“I’m in the Hospital?”
“Yes, you’re at Holloway Medical Institute in the Trauma unit,” she said.
He swallowed. “I don’t remember anything.”
“That’s common with head trauma.” She patted his arm. “We’ll monitor your progress. Just rest.”
“Do I have a name?” he asked after a moment, his voice uncertain.
She hesitated before glancing at the chart. “The police are calling you Adam for now. Until we find out who you really are.”
“Adam,” he repeated. It felt foreign, like trying on someone else’s skin. “Better than John Doe, I guess.”
The days passed in a haze of soft hospital lighting and voices that came and went. The police had no leads. No missing person reports matched him. He existed in a void, a man with no past. And then, on the third day, he arrived.
A handsome man, maybe in his late twenties, entered the room. Dark curls, tired eyes, and a hesitant smile. “Hey,” he said softly, as if speaking too loudly might scare him away.
Adam sat up a little, wincing. “Hey.”
The man’s smile wavered. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
He hesitated. There was something in the man’s face—a flicker of familiarity, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. “Not really, no.”
“I was afraid of that.” The man exhaled. “My name is Victor. I’m your husband.”
His breath caught. “My husband?”
Victor nodded, stepping closer. “We’ve been married for three years. I—God, this is insane. You went out for a quick errand two nights ago and never came back. I thought you were dead. And now…”
Adam couldn’t look away from Victor’s face—so raw with emotion, so certain. But there was nothing inside him, no pull, no whisper of recognition. Just blank, suffocating emptiness.
“I don’t… I don’t know what to say,” he admitted.
Victor sat down beside the bed. “It’s okay. I’ll help you remember. We’ll go home, and things will come back to you. You just need time.”
He should’ve felt comforted, but instead, his skin prickled. Something felt off. But what choice did he have? He had nowhere else to go.
The house was modern, sleek, with glass walls that overlooked a dark forest. It should have felt like a refuge, but it didn’t. It felt like a cage.
Victor moved around him easily, as if trying not to startle a skittish animal. “I thought I’d make your favorite tonight—carbonara. You always say mine is better than any restaurant. I hope you’ll still like it.”
Adam forced a smile. “Sounds good.”
But the words felt false. He should remember something as simple as a favorite meal, right? Yet nothing stirred. He watched Victor move in the kitchen, effortless, confident. It should have been reassuring. It wasn’t.
Later, as they ate, Victor reached across the table, brushing his hand. “I know this is overwhelming, but you can trust me. I love you.”
He stared at Victor’s hand. It was warm, familiar. And yet.
That night, he lay awake in a bed that was supposedly his, staring at the ceiling. The house was too quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against the eardrums. A thought kept gnawing at him: This isn’t right.
The first real clue came the next day. He had been looking through a bookshelf, searching for anything that might trigger a memory. That’s when he found the photo album.
The pictures inside were glossy, full of laughter and warmth—him and Victor at the beach, at Christmas, on a boat. He frowned. The pictures looked… odd. His eyes drifted to the edges. A slight blur. As if… edited.
His stomach dropped. He flipped to another. His arm was around Victor, but his hand? It faded into the background, as though it had been placed there. Then, in another image, something even stranger—his own hand, resting on a table, had six fingers.
A cold, sharp jolt ran through his veins. “What the hell…?”
“What are you doing?”
Victor’s voice was light, but there was an edge to it.
He turned the album toward him. “These pictures. They’re fake.”
Victor didn’t even glance at them. “You’re confused. Your mind is trying to reject reality.”
“No.” Adam stood. “This isn’t right. I don’t remember anything, but I know this isn’t my life.”
Victor’s jaw tightened. “I knew this would be hard for you. I was hoping you’d just settle in, but I see now… I need to help you remember faster.”
The air between them shifted. Victor wasn’t just upset. He was calculating.
Panic swelled in his throat. “Who the hell are you?”
Victor sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I really didn’t want to do it this way.”
The world tilted. A sudden wave of dizziness nearly knocked him over. His vision blurred. His limbs felt heavy, sluggish.
His drink.
Victor caught him before he collapsed, lowering him gently to the floor. “Shhh. It’ll be easier if you don’t fight it.”
He woke up bound to a chair.
The room was different—smaller, dimly lit. Panic surged through him, his heart hammered in his ribs.
Victor sat across from him, fingers steepled. “You’re special, Johnny.” That’s why I chose you. Your mind… it’s different. They wiped you clean, but I knew I could bring you back.”
His breath came fast. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Victor leaned forward. “Johnny, you were part of something—Project Sable. A covert psychological experiment that aimed to enhance cognitive abilities through induced memory resets. They pushed subjects past their mental limits, rewiring their perception of reality. But when you found out the truth, you wanted out. Of course, they couldn’t let that happen.”
Adam’s body trembled. Because some part of him, buried deep, knew the truth.
Victor stood, walked behind him. “I wanted to ease you into it, but now we don’t have time. They’ll come for you soon. We need to go.”
His instincts screamed. “No. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Victor let out a breath. “I hoped you’d trust me by now. But if you won’t come willingly…”
Something cold pressed against his neck—a needle. The world blurred again, a slow descent into darkness.
The last thing he heard was Victor’s whisper: “I’m only trying to save you.”
THE END