This post is hard to write

Aaron opened his eyes.
He was in a bed. A comfortable bed.
The room around him was white. White walls, white ceiling, white curtains. Above his bed stood the palest woman he had ever seen. Albino. Her mouth was moving.
"Wake up," she said.
"Where am I..." he mumbled, the words barely escaping his swollen lips, if at all.
"You'll be all right," she said, "you're safe now. You've escaped."
He stared up at her. The light seemed to make a halo around her head.
"I think I love you," he said. It wasn't something he should say. It wasn't something he would ever say. He wasn't himself.
"I know," she said. "Don't worry. I am your salvation."
She was wearing a police uniform. He felt his heart beat faster. He believed her more than he had ever believed any shit religion in his life.
"I don't think I'm hearing what you are actually saying," he whispered.
"You aren't. But its the truth."
Aaron drifted into comfortable oblivion.

When he awoke, she was still there. He looked up at her with a feeling of adoration.
Their roles had reversed. He was the one looking with love; she was not.
"Who are you," she asked.
"I don't know," he answered honestly.
"An innocent passerby? In the slum? At two in the morning? Those kind of things don't happen."
"It happened this time."
"Stop looking at me like that," she said.
"Like what?"
"Like that. It's creepy."
"I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."
The conversation went on in the same strangely awkward manner. Eventually, Aaron was released. He got a job in the coffee shop, and rented a seedy apartment in the Jupiter building. The image of the policewoman and her halo haunted him like a beautiful angel; he was content to drift through this life. He did not seek to meet her, the image of salvation was enough.
One day, she walked in and ordered a coffee. She looked at him suspiciously. He gazed at her with his innocent wide eyes.
The next day, she came in again. The same suspicious gaze, but it had dulled. "I'm Aaron," he said.
"I'm Amy," she responded, "Is that your real name?"
"Real enough."
Every day, she came in, and they would talk. She was looking for a hint of his guilt. She knew that he was up to something. Amnesia belonged in the movies.
Eventually he asked her out to dinner.
She accepted.
The world moved quickly.
Her suspicion faded gradually. She began to appreciate the way he looked at her.
At dinner, she would vent about her work. She prided herself in solving every case which had ever come her way. "I got every one settled. I unraveled Fannie May and the stabbing, I figured out the roaming criminal. All that has come my way but two," she said. "I never cracked you," she smiled. "And I never caught that robber who got the pawnshop."
"What?" asked Aaron. He didn't move.
"Some guy beat the blind locksmith into opening up the pawnshop one night. He ransacked the place, but only took one item. Some necklace."
Aaron felt under his shirt, where the jade dragonfly was pressed against his skin. It had been returned with his other clothing in the hospital. He had never thrown it away. He told himself that this was because he wanted to keep a reminder.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "It just bothers me, thats all."
Aaron didn't respond.
He was happy. He told himself he was. But the jade dragonfly still dangled from he neck, and he found himself walking through shops, planning heists without thinking. It happened more and more frequently as the weeks went on. The more she loved him, the more he stumbled into old habits. This frightened him. He did not want to leave her, but he did not want to betray her by falling from this heaven. On the nights after those days he would lie in bed with her, holding her in silence. Sometimes he would sleep. But dreams were a luxury he could not afford.
He grew tired and lethargic, more so than ever before. Nothing was chasing him but himself. Nothing frightened him but his identity.