BAD HEROINES

2. Weren't The Same

Her detached eyes stared out the window as she sat on the bed, her legs pulled close to her chest. She remained still for minutes, lost in deep thought. It had been a week since she woke up, and in that time, she had tried to understand her situation.

She exhaled deeply, a faint smile curling her lips. "Thank you, Michelle."

The door opened, and she slowly turned her eyes in that direction. Alan walked in, his gaze landing on her posture. He shook his head.

"Your errands," he said, placing a bag on the bed beside her. For the past week, he had been her delivery guy, running errands for whatever she needed. The only thing he could do was grit his teeth and endure it.

She needed clothes to change into before leaving the hospital, so she had asked Alan to bring some for her. Taking the bag, she stepped into the bathroom.

A minute later, she emerged wearing a short black jumpsuit, her hair cut short to reach her shoulders.

Alan seized Michelle up and down his brow furrowing. Were his thoughts or was true Michelle changed. He never even expose her body before but now... she even cut her favorite long hair. He took a deep breath.

After finishing the discharge procedures, he led her to his car. As Alan drove, she gazed out the window.

"Creepy," Alan muttered, noticing Michelle smiling for no apparent reason.

Eventually, he pulled up in front of an apartment building. He glanced at the girl who was once his stepsister and was now his neighbor. He was a prosecutor, while she was a detective, and more often than not, they were opposites.

Inside the elevator, silence stretched between them until Alan finally broke it, his voice curious though he didn’t face her. "Why did you refuse to let the officers visit you?"

She glanced at him briefly before turning her eyes forward. "Wouldn't I meet them tomorrow?"

Alan's eyes widened as he turned to look at her. "You're going back to work tomorrow? In your condition? You don’t even seem in your right mind."

"Nothing is wrong with me," she replied with a frown as if offended.

The elevator doors opened, and she stepped out first. She walked a few steps before halting, realizing she had no idea where her apartment was. Turning around, she found Alan watching her with knitted brows.

"Michelle." He walked up and grabbed her wrist.

Caught off guard, she stared at him as he dragged her in the opposite direction. She had been heading the wrong way.

Alan pulled her into a spot away from the cameras before letting go. His sharp gaze locked onto hers. "You're not fine."

She raised a brow. "Ah, about my arm?"

"Don't take me for a fool. You've been acting strangely since you woke up. Tell me who am I? And not just my name. Tell me something only you and I would know."

She gritted her teeth. Lying to him wouldn’t be easy. Alan knew Michelle better than she had expected, and with him being a prosecutor, the situation had become even more difficult.

Taking a deep breath, she finally admitted, "Fine, I’ll tell you. I’m not that fine."

A tinge of tears welled up in her eyes, softening Alan's stern expression.

"I... lost some of my memories," she said, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I can't even remember if I had a family..."

Alan's eyes widened. No wonder she had been acting like a different person. The truth was, she had lost her memories.

No wonder she had refused to see the officers even those close to her. She was determined to get back to work despite her condition and had kept it a secret because if her situation was known she wouldn’t be allowed to return to work.

He knew her well. She was addicted to cases, unable to rest until they were solved. But still, something was off. What was driving her to push herself so hard that she insisted on reporting back tomorrow?

"Reina's case might trigger my memories, everything happened because of that" she said with determination. "I have to find out who was behind her accident."

"What? Do you hear yourself? If you've lost your memories, that’s all the more reason to step back"

She sighed. "I can take care of myself. Nothing is more dangerous than my situation right now."

Alan stared at her in disbelief. What could he do to stop her from this reckless decision? Should he inform her chief? But with Michelle stubbornness she would get herself involve even if she was suspended.

'Frustrating!' He looked at her and noticed her still had tears. When he thought about it he never saw her cry for a long time. Was it that must for her to return to work?

"Then... you have to let me help you. Don't do anything alone." Maybe he should let her but monitor her at the same time, after all he was in charge of the same case.

She smiled and nodded.

"Don't smile. We don’t have the kind of relationship where we smile at each other," he muttered before leading the way to her apartment.

Their rooms were close to each other. She pointed at one. "This is mine. If you need anything..." He trailed off, feeling awkward.

He brought her to the next room. "This is yours. You used your fingerprint for the key code, so it shouldn’t be difficult."

She pressed her finger to the scanner, and the door unlocked. Stepping inside, Alan flicked on the lights. She glanced around, her eyes widening in shock.

"Did... someone attack me in my place? I mean, did something happen to turn it into this mess? An earthquake, perhaps?"

Alan scoffed. "You wish. This is just how you live. You never cared about anything other than your cases, so you never had time to clean."

She laughed. "I’m not surprised. If she didn’t even have time to take care of herself, why would she bother with her house?"

Alan tilted his head, trying to make sense of her words, but decided to ignore them and stepped further inside. No matter how much he hated it, he had promised to help her.

Soon, they changed into more comfortable clothes and started cleaning up the house, especially the clothes on the chairs, the empty bottles and packages.

She was surprised to find that her fridge didn’t have a single beer only water and other non-alcoholic drinks. By the time they finished, evening had fallen, and Alan ordered food for them.

They sat at the table and ate together. It felt strange to him. In the past, they had never shared a meal like this.

"So, where will you start?" he asked.

As she ate, she replied casually, "I’ll have to read all the files on Reina's case. That will tell me where to begin."

"Remember. Don't overwork yourself," he sighed. "I’m not sure anymore..."

"About what?"

"You don’t seem worried. If this ever gets out..."

"It won’t. And if it ever does, I won’t drag you into it." She smiled.

"Don't smile. I can tell it’s forced."

"Oh." She pouted and continued eating.

Later, she was left alone. She walked into a room where a desk and shelves lined with books and files stood. It seemed Michelle liked to read. Finally, she found one thing they had in common.

She pulled out a random book, only to see it was non-fiction. She frowned and put it back.

"We will never be alike," she muttered. She preferred fiction.

She moved to Michelle's desk, where some files and a computer sat. This must have been where Michelle worked at home. Sitting in the chair, she picked up one of the files and skimmed through it.

The notes were calculations on past cases. After reading a little, she chuckled. "A murderer doesn’t think like that. How naive are you, Michelle?"

She set the file aside and turned to the computer. She powered it on, only to be met with a requiring password. She slumped in her chair.

"What could the password be?" She tried Michelle birth date, knowing it was unlikely. It failed.

Finding the password herself would be a waste of time. Maybe she needed an expert.

At the thought, she straightened, muttering a name under her breath.

"Hanae."