"Hi, Clarke Hawkins."
Clarke froze, his heart skipping a beat for a split second. His expression wavered but he forced it back into place before the therapist could notice.
"Who's that?" He asked nonchalantly trying to maintain the act..
The therapist nodded in agreement, the wide grin slowly creeping back to his face. His once cold and unreadable face now brimmed with an unfamiliar familiarity.
He suddenly clapped in realization, "Ah, I forgot. Your name is Lomi now and you have amnesia. Right Clarke?"
Although his expression remained blank, Clarke's heart was beating wildly against his chest. Who is this, and how does he know me, he wondered. He couldn't just agree to be Clarke Hawkins. What if he was the "boss" or someone sent to finish him off?. But he was certain his parents hadn't left a single trace of him behind, and his nanny? She disguised herself perfectly, no one would ever suspect that woman. So how did this guy find out who he was? How much does he know? How did he even find him?
"You keep calling me Clarke, do you know me? Is that my name?" Clarke asked him politely.
The therapist let out a laugh as if Clarke just told a joke. "Hmm let's just say I am someone important to you. What about that?"
Clarke looked at him with hidden disgust, the therapist was starting to get on his nerves. What's with the suspense, he thought, suppressing his annoyance.
"You know it's surprising how you came this far. I mean considering how your parents hid you away, you wouldn't know anywhere except that house. Yet, here you are, claiming to only remember this hospital."
"Why? Do you expect me to continue living in the sewer? Clarke sighed, his tone weary. "As a therapist, you really shouldn't have trust issues. How will I tell you about my problems if you keep doubting me like this. Dr Alan assured me that this would work out, but I guess he was wrong. I'll take my leave then."
Clarke turned to leave but he stopped dead in his tracks as the therapist spoke. The words hit him hard, leaving him shocked and scared out of his wits. He left the office looking dejected, he was so lost, he didn't even notice Kate calling his name.
As soon as the door closed shut, the therapist's expression melted. He let out a sigh, not of tiredness but of deep relief.
"He's alive." He whispered, smiling as he sat in his chair.
•••••
"Have you found the boy?" A man snapped annoyingly over the phone to Dan, one of the killers.
"No boss, we hired someone to help, he hasn't turned up yet."
"You're courting disaster, aren't you? Dan, I'm warning you, do not annoy me further. Handle it yourself."
"I'm sorry boss, but the boy saw our faces. We couldn't search for him without being spotted, so we had to send someone else."
"You have one week. If you don't find the boy, I'll make sure nobody ever sees your face again."
The phone beeped signaling that the caller had hung up.
Dan leaned back in his chair, his head was banging from frustration. It's like the boy just vanished off the face of the earth. They've spent weeks searching for him all to no avail, he'd even hired an investigator with his money just to keep the boss calm. But now that he had just a week to find him, he wondered what kind of magic he'd pull to make that happen.
He picked up and his phone and dialed a number. As the ringing filled the room, a thick voice finally answered.
"I didn't find him there, Dan"
Dan slammed the phone onto the table, his face red with anger.
"I guess there's no other choice. It's the only thing I can do at this point." He said to himself grimly.
•••••
Clarke walked over to the reception desk and asked Clara for Lana's room. Clara was happy they became friends and happily told him where to go.
Clarke strode over to the ward, but hesitated at the door. His hand lingered on the door knob, unsure if he should go in. He stood there for a few minutes before finally deciding to leave, but just as his hand slipped off the door knob, the door flung open and Lana appeared right in front of him.
They stood in silence staring at each other's faces, as if they were having a silent conversation.
"Sorry," Clarke said breaking the silence.
"Uh?" Lana asked, confusingly.
"I got mad at you for no reason. That's what I'm sorry for."
"Oh. It's okay." Lane replied sheepishly, "I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have acted like we were already friends."
The atmosphere grew awkward, neither of them knew what to do next. Clarke wasn't particularly interested in making friends, he just happened to have a reason to. Lana, being very shy, didn't know what else to say.
"Do you want to play?" Clarke burst out, forcing a small friendly smile.
Lana chuckled awkwardly "Uhm play? Okay."
They left his room and walked over to the area reserved for kids. Although they were the only children in the hospital, the play area was large enough for twenty children.
As they opened the door, their eyes caught a toy car on the floor. They stood there, staring at it, and thinking about their lives before they ended up in the hospital. Lana fought back the tears welling up in his eyes, but Clarke noticed. He wondered what Lana remembered.
"How did you get here?" Clarke asked, his question ruining the mood.
"Someone tried to kill me," Lana replied softly. "But I survived. I was found passed out outside the gate."
"Who tried to kill you?"
The expression on Lana's face changed. Hus face twisted with a mixture of anger and hurt.
"Someone I trusted." He whispered
Clarke wasn't shocked to hear it, nothing surprised him anymore. He understood what Lana must be feeling, except he didn't know who killed his parents.
Lana suddenly pulled out a locket from his pocket and placed it on Clarke's palm.
"This locket was with me when I woke up," Lana said. "Open it."
Clarke opened the locket, his heart dropped as he stared in horror at the picture inside.
'How do you have this?" He demanded, his voice trembling.