Episode 5

Omniscient Narrator.

Daylight has come and something can be seen floating in the distance; it is the body of Larissa, lying naked and adrift in the river.

A man is seated on the patio of his riverside home and can see the body of the young woman. Horror strikes his face, yet without hesitation, he seizes his boat to retrieve her.

He rows until he reaches the young woman's body which is still partly shrouded with a bag.

With considerable effort, he lifts her into the boat and prepares to bring her ashore.

Once on land, he checks her pulse and, to his surprise, she is still alive.

He quickly carries her inside the house and lays her on the bed, noticing his arms are covered in blood as he releases her—it is her blood, from her head. He steps back with extended arms, shocked by the sight. Frantic, he searches for a medical kit under his bed, sets it on the bed, and opens it.

Fortunately for Larissa, the man is a retired doctor. He begins to treat her and wraps a bandage around her head, hopeful that she will awaken.

Days pass and though she can breathe on her own, she remains unconscious. After a week, Larissa's fingers start to twitch—a sign that, though she is not yet opening her eyes, is promising.

Gradually, as days go by, her signs of recovery become more pronounced, to the delight of Dr. Gomez, who is relieved to see improvements in her critical condition.

Demir's Narration.

We've questioned all her schoolmates and even checked the cameras, but we only managed to capture Larissa in the hallway of her school heading out to catch her taxi.

This situation fills me with despair; I know with each passing hour, the chance of finding her alive diminishes, and the thought of losing her forever plunges me into profound sorrow.

I regret not having trusted her, for letting myself be swayed by doubt.

Now there are words of remorse from my peers, but before, their accusing glances fell on me. Now I know who my true friends are, those who made me doubt whether Larissa was really capable of doing such a thing, because they truly knew her heart.

Today I entered her room and everything was there—her belongings, her photographs, her memories, her achievements. I took one of her pillows, and her scent lingered there; I couldn't help but curl up in the corner, hugging her pillow, and cry.

"I'll never be happy without you, sis," I said through tears, hoping she could hear me.

Dr. Gomez's Narration.

A smile spreads across my face as the girl's eyes flutter open; I can hardly believe it. She was all but dead when I found her, but today she's opening her eyes.

Seeing the confusion in her eyes, she tries to leap off the bed, but as soon as her feet touch the floor, she collapses. I try to get her back into the bed, and in the moment she comes to, she tries desperately to remove the IV needle.

"Easy, young lady, easy, I'm trying to protect you. You're still in bad shape, lay back down."

Larissa, still dazed, tries to listen.

"Can you tell me your name?"

Larissa's Narration.

Waking up, I see an older man watching me. I want to leave that bed, but as soon as I try to get up, everything spins and I collapse back down. The man tries to help me back into bed, and that's when I notice the IV—none of this place looks like a hospital. In a frenzy, I start yelling while the man pleads for me to calm down. Then he asks me my name, and that's when I realize everything's wrong. I can't remember my name, nor how I ended up there.

The man looks at me, puzzled by my inability to answer.

"Do you know who your parents are?" he asks.

My throat tightens and tears come easily.

Who am I? I wonder; it's a massive question.

The man gazes at me intently.

"Perhaps your name is Larissa," he says calmly, pointing to the necklace around my neck. "Let me show you."

He helps me remove the necklace to reveal it clearly reads "Larissa" and on the back is engraved, "I LOVE YOU, SIS, DEMIR."

"Is this necklace mine?" I ask.

"I believe so, it's the only thing I found with you. Don't you remember anything?" he inquires.

"No," I shake my head.

"Look, I'll tell you, I found you a week ago floating in the river, and you have a significant head injury that might be causing your memory loss. But I've never heard of amnesia that lasts forever, you understand?"

"Do you know what happened to me?"

"No, but I can call the police; they might have a report about your disappearance. Though perhaps not today (glancing out the window) because a big storm is coming, it would be dangerous for them to come to the island."

I just lower my face and begin to cry. Deep anguish overwhelms me, though I'm not fully aware of what happened, I know it was serious.

That night, Mr. Gomez feeds me, and although it is difficult, he helps a lot. He tells me the injury severely affected my motor skills—that's why I can't open my mouth properly or walk—but he'll aid me and that I'd likely receive proper treatment at the hospital.

Morning breaks, and I wake up early to see a boat approaching. I go to Mr. Gomez's room to alert him, and he rises to greet them.

It's the police, but among them, I spy a face eerily familiar. Suddenly, memories flood back; the man outside hurt me. My body trembles, and I am frozen.

"What's wrong, Larissa?" Dr. Gomez asks.

"That man... he hurt me," I say, tears welling up.

"What? But he's with the police, Larissa. Why do you say that?"

"I remember, he's the one who hit me, I swear! Please, don't hand me over to him. He'll kill me!!"

"Don't worry, girl, wait, that won't happen."

"He's going to kill me, he's going to kill me!" I cry out in hysteria.

"Alright, come hide, if they ask I'll tell them I haven't seen you," he says, taking my hand to lead me to his room.

Trusting him is my only option; the thought of that man coming near me terrifies me.

Frightened, I move to Mr. Gomez's room and stay quiet, trying to listen.

Dr. Gomez's Narration.

I step outside onto my house's veranda, where three men await.

"Hello, good morning. Sorry for the delay, I was not yet up," I greet them.

"Good morning, sir, I am Officer Peñaloza. A few days ago, this young woman disappeared—" (handing over a photograph) "—We are searching for her. Have you seen her around here?"

Seeing Larissa's photograph surprises me; she looks so happy in it.

"No, I haven't seen her, officer. No one ever comes this way."

"Do you live here alone?" Peñaloza asks.

"Yes, officer. I'm retired and sought this place for some peace."

"I see... May we have a look around your property?"

"Sure, go ahead."

They spend a few minutes and find nothing.

"May we enter your house?" another officer requests.

"Uh, yes, of course, come in," (gesturing for them to enter).

"No, it's okay," Peñaloza says (believing the young woman would not be there as he had attempted to kill her).

"Well, sir, if you happen to see or hear anything, please get in touch," another officer says, handing me his card.

"I will do that, officer," I reply. "Sorry, what did you say the young woman's name was?"

"Larissa Nascimento," Peñaloza says.

"Poor girl, I hope you find her soon," I tell them.

"Yes, let's hope so," Peñaloza says, reaching out his hand. "Remember, any news, get in touch."

"Will do," I say, shaking his hand.

And with that, they leave, allowing me to reenter the house and tell Larissa it's safe now.

"Come out, girl, they've gone."

"What did they tell you, sir?"

"They were looking for you. I now know your name; you're Larissa Nascimento."

"Larissa Nascimento?"

"Yes! That's what the policeman said. Are you sure he's the one who hurt you?"

"I'm not sure. I can only remember flashes."

"It might be, girl, I don't think you'd randomly remember his face harming you by accident. But he's a cop; how will we get you home safely?"

"He'll find out and want to finish me."

"I'll ask my daughter for help finding your family, alright? Don't worry, young one," he says, tenderly touching her face.

I reach for my phone to speak with my daughter. I ask her to come because I need her help. Hours later, my daughter Rebecca appears at my home, along with her eccentric friends, but at least she is here.

"Hello, honey, how are you?"

"Hi, Dad. Good, and you?" Rebecca responds.

"Good. I needed to see you, darling. I have a favor to ask."

"Mm, okay! What do you need, Dad?" she says, tossing a section of her hair back and crossing her arms.

"Come, sit down. Look, a few days ago, I found a young woman."

"You found a woman? Are you cheating on Mom?"

"No, no, no, no. Listen, I found her floating in the water, nearly dead," I explain, her gaze turning worried.

"A dead girl, Dad? Did you call the police?"

"No, honey, she's not dead. I managed to treat her; she's here, but she can't remember her family or who she is."

"But how is that possible, Dad?"

"I don't know, sweetie, truly Divine intervention saved this girl's life."

"Is she here?"

"Yes, Becky," (my daughter Rebecca's nickname).

"But she's not okay. Someone attempted to kill her, and a blow to the head caused her to lose her memory. The police came by today, and she identified one of them as her aggressor."

"What? A policeman?"

"Yes. She's very scared, so I wanted to ask for your help in finding her family."

"Me? No, no, no," (rising from her seat, pacing back and forth) "You can't ask me to do something like this. You don't know the kind of trouble this girl might be in, not even who she is."

"I know, darling, but I just need this favor. Take her with you and help her find her family. You have so many friends who could help."

"I understand, but what if it lands me in trouble?"

"This girl doesn't even know who she is, Becky."

"Let me see her, bring her here."

Rebecca's Narration.

I watch as she timidly peers from behind the door.

She's a beautiful girl, but clearly traumatized. The thought of caring for her daunts me, but perhaps if she heals, she may be able to help herself.

I decide to take her to my place, despite the worrisome situation.

She says goodbye to my father, thanking him for rescuing her. She owes him more than thanks; he saved her life.

We get into the car and I head to my apartment.

As we enter, I warn her to just nod to the doorman and shrug off any questions he may ask.

The doorman attempts to approach, curious about the young woman's identity.

"Good day, Miss Rebecca. Who do we have the pleasure of having over?" he inquires. (He's an older man, about 70, who always keeps a close watch on my comings and goings, to later report to the landlord.)

"My friend Larissa," I answer, trying to appear unconcerned.

"Is she from around here?"

"Of course," I reply. "But she's going through some personal issues, so she'll be staying with me for a few days."

"She seems quite affected..." (eyeing her with intrigue).

I throw my arm around his neck in a half-embrace and whisper in his ear.

"Her boyfriend was abusive, tried to kill her, and I brought her here. She's got nowhere else to turn and is still in shock. I'm her friend and I'm here to support her."

He looks at Larissa, who's trying to evade his gaze, then says to me,

"All right, Rebecca. Poor girl, I just hope she doesn't cause any trouble."

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