why did my brother wait until my birthday to put a bullet in my head?
"Throw him overboard.'' my brother commanded my own men, and they obliged. "Finally, I'll take your place as Mafia Heir and rule the city like I was meant to.''
They lifted me and threw my body out of the yacht. I hit the water, then sank under.
As heir to the Russian mob, I'd killed enough people to fill a graveyard. Didn't think twice about any of them. But dying? That's different. Every person I'd put in the ground was making sure my trip down was anything but peaceful.
The last thing I remembered was someone's arms wrapping around me, pulling me upwards and out of the water. Then my world went dark.
6 MONTHS LATER
ANALISE' POV
"Good morning, Analise.'' Majorie greeted me.
"Morning Marjorie. Clocking out?''
"Yes. I was waiting for you.'' Majorie answers while she signs the sheet. On the other hand, clock into work. It's 5 in the morning, I'd had a full eight hours of sleep and was looking at a 24 hr shift at the hospital. Once clocked in, I pick up my chat and put on my scrubs. My name is Analise Keating, I'm a nurse at our local hospital.
I walk down the hall and head in to see my favourite patient. A handsome man filled with tattoos had been in a coma for six months. I found him dumped outside the hospital with a gunshot wound in his head, yet he wasn't dead. I brought him in and the doctors helped him.
Every morning, I'd sit by his bed and talk to him, even though I knew he couldn't hear me. It was silly, maybe even a little desperate, but something about him made me believe he was still in there, fighting to come back.
"Good Morning, eyebrows.'' I greet him, even though he won't answer. His nickname had been given to him by the other nurses, based on how beautiful his brows were.
Everyday I told him goodmorning not expecting a greeting in return. Today, the machines started beeping. He coughed, once, twice, three times. His finger moved, then his whole hand. I stood there, utterly frozen.
I rushed over to him, punching the switch on the wall to signal for a doctor. "Hey, hey, Sir, can you hear me? Can you tell me how you feel?''
The man just shakes his head while he tries to sit up. He takes off the oxygen mask on his face, looking around, looking panicked.
"Whe.. i.. Where am I?''
"Sir, please don't try to sit up yet. Let's wait for the doctor.''
Fuck! Where are the doctors?
"Where am I? Who am I?''
"You're in St.Mary's hospital.''I answered, not fully focused on his second question. Suddenly, the doctor burst in.
"He's awake!" I called out as Dr. Chen rushed in, followed by two residents.
"Step back please, Nurse Keating," Dr. Chen ordered, moving to the bedside. "Sir, I'm Dr. Chen. Can you tell me your name?"
The patient shook his head, his eyes darting between us. "I don't... I can't remember."
"That's okay. Can you follow my finger with your eyes?" Dr. Chen moved his index finger left to right. "Good. Now squeeze my hands... excellent. Can you tell me what year it is?"
"I don't know."
"Do you know where you are?"
"The nurse said St. Mary's hospital."
Dr. Chen turned to the residents. "Order a full neurological panel and get CT imaging ready." He faced the patient again. "Sir, you've been in a coma for six months. You suffered a gunshot wound to the head. We're going to run some tests to assess your condition."
"A gunshot?" The patient's hand moved to the back of his head.
"Yes. You were dropped at our emergency entrance with no identification. We performed emergency surgery to remove bullet fragments from your occipital region."
Four hours of tests later, Dr. Chen returned with the results.
"Your motor functions are normal, and you're able to form new memories," Dr. Chen explained, showing him the brain scans. "See this area? That's your hippocampus. The bullet damaged this region, which is why you can't access your old memories."
"Will they come back?" the patient asked.
"With this type of trauma, it's unlikely. No one has come forward looking for you in the past six months."
"So I don't have a name? A family? Nothing?"
"Legally, you're registered as John Doe," I said. He was confused, he seemed lost. It was the first time I'd gotten to see the color of his eyes, blue. They were beautiful.
"We'll let you rest."The nurse said, signalling for all of us to leave the room.
Ivan's POV
One Year Later
I wake in a cold sweat, shaken by a nightmare. Everyday, I had the same dream. A man holding a gun to the back of my head, "I've waited to do this for too long.''
I get out of bed, picking up the note my wife left me on the nightstand. "Left for work. Can't wait to see you tonight.''
I look up at the clock. "Fuck!'' It's already 8pm.
Today was our anniversary. The day I woke up from a comma and met the love of my life, Analise Keating. I fell in love with her before I even knew that she loved me first. It wasn't until our second date that she confessed to having read me stories everyday in my hospital bed. I'd only gotten discharged a month after I woke up, even then, I wasted no time going for what I wanted. She was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.
4 months into dating, I had a steady job working at the dorks. I made a decent living, and could easily support myself without needing government aid. There, I proposed to Analise and she said yes. Since then, it's been heaven.
I had a dinner planned for us once she got off work. Once I showered, I opted to clean up the house while waiting for her.
I was wiping down the kitchen counter when it hit me - a stabbing pain that felt like my skull was being split open. I dropped to my knees, clutching my head as images flooded my mind.
"No... no, no, no..." I gripped the edge of the counter, trying to stay conscious as memories crashed over me like waves.
The yacht. The gun. My brother Mikhail's voice. "Goodbye, brother."
"Ivan," I whispered my own name. "I'm Ivan Volkov. Heir to the Russian Mafia"
More memories surged forward - blood, violence, bodies. The family business. The Russian mafia. I remembered everything - the empire I'd built, the enemies I'd made, the lives I'd taken.
I stumbled to my feet, my whole body shaking. The kitchen felt too small, too quiet. Analise's note was still on the counter where I'd dropped it. Analise. My wife. The nurse who saved me.
"Fuck!" I slammed my fist into the wall. She had no idea who I really was. Who she'd married. The target she'd become the moment she took my hand.
My brother thought I was dead. The moment he found out I wasn't - the moment anyone from my old life discovered I was alive - they'd come for me. And they'd use her to do it.
I grabbed my phone, then stopped. Am I going to leave her like this? I loved her, more than I've ever loved anyone in my wretched life.
I pick up a pen and a note. Breaking her heart is the only way to keep her away.
"This was a mistake. Goodbye. : Eyebrows" There, now she'll be sure the note is from me.
If I truly loved her, I had to disappear. Clean break. Let her hate me for abandoning her rather than make her a target.
I took off my wedding ring, placed it on the note. One last look around the home we'd built together. Then I walked out, closing the door quietly behind me.
My heart bled to leave her behind, but a woman like her doesn't deserve the cruelty of this world. A man like me cannot be selfish enough to want happiness at the expense of her life.
"I'm coming for you, brother," I whispered, feeling the familiar cold settle into my bones. The Ivan Volkov that Mikhail tried to kill was back. And this time, I wouldn't be the one dying.
Analise' POV
I stared at the three pregnancy tests on my passenger seat, each one bearing the same two pink lines. My hands shook as I picked them up, still not quite believing it. After my shift, I rushed to buy a tiny white onesie that said "Coming Soon" and some wrapping paper.
John and I had talked about having kids. The way his eyes lit up whenever he saw children at the park, how gentle he was with the pediatric patients who wandered into his path when he'd visit me at work - I knew he'd be an amazing father.
I carefully placed the tests and onesie in a small gift box, my heart racing with anticipation. The wrapping wasn't perfect - my excited hands made the corners a bit messy - but I couldn't wait any longer.
"John?" I called out, pushing open our front door. The house was oddly quiet. "Baby, I'm home! I have the perfect anniversary gift for you!"
My heels clicked against the hardwood as I moved through the house. "John?"
Then I saw it. His wedding ring on the counter, sitting on top of a note. My hands trembled as I picked up the paper, the gift box falling forgotten to the floor.
"This was a mistake. Don't look for me. Goodbye Analise." At the bottom was that nickname that made me know the message was from him. Eyebrows.
The pregnancy tests scattered across the floor as the box hit the ground, those pink lines now mocking me as my world collapsed.