ER

You wake up remembering nothing about the last year of your life. Everyone else remembers. Your family. Your best friend. Your boyfriend. They all tell you the same thing: you were happy. You were safe. You were loved. Then a stranger appears and tells you they’re lying. He claims you used to hate him. He knows things about your missing year that nobody should know—and he insists you left clues behind for yourself before the accident. As fragments of your memory begin returning, the stories surrounding you start falling apart. Because someone isn’t just hiding what happened to you. They’re hiding what you discovered. And the more you remember, the more terrifying one question becomes: What if forgetting wasn’t the worst thing that happened to you?