Page 4 of Amnesia

A quick glance down proved I was covered with blankets. Between suspicious glances at the people crowding my room (there were four), I gazed around, concluding I was in fact in a hospital.

“I don’t understand,” I admitted, all my weight pressing into the bed.

“It’s okay,” the man replied. He was a doctor, with a name badge and a stethoscope. “It’s completely normal and expected to be confused after the ordeal you’ve been through.”

“What ordeal?” I asked instantly, anxiety pressing in on my ribcage.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” the doctor said.

“What?” My brows furrowed.

The nurse leaned close, over the side of the bed. I noticed the railings were pulled up on each side. It made me feel as if I were in jail. Instantly, I hated it and began shoving at the bars, trying to push them down.

“Okay, hang on,” the nurse said and put the rails down. Once it was done, she pinned me with an insistent stare. “You have to stay still. You can’t thrash around. You’ll rip out your IV and reinjure yourself.”

“What happened to me?” I asked for what felt like the fifteenth time. I looked around at the four people in the room, hoping one of them would just spit it out.

The doctor motioned to two of the nurses and then quietly left the room.

I glanced back at the nurse. “Can you tell us your name?” she asked.

“My name?” I nodded once, then opened my mouth… only nothing came out.

Anxiety spiked in me again; I started to become agitated. “I… don’t know.”

“Calm down.” The nurse reminded me.

How dare she tell me to calm down? I couldn’t even remember my name.

Oh my God, I didn’t know my own name!

“I don’t remember!” I gasped, jerking up into a sitting position. “Why can’t I remember?”

Before I could fling the covers off and jump out of bed, the doctor was there, pinning me back down. “If you don’t calm down, we’ll have to sedate you. I don’t want to do that. You’ve been out long enough.”

I stilled. “How long?”

“A while.” The nurse hedged.

I ignored her. She was terrible with questions. “How long?” I demanded.

“A little over two months,” the doctor replied.

I gasped. “What’s my name?” I yelled.

I’d been here for two months and they were asking for my name? Shouldn’t they know it?

The doctor wasn’t looking at me; he was looking at the nurse, giving her a curt nod. She rushed out of the room.

“No!” I shouted. “No drugs! Please! Tell me my name. I just want to know my name.”

“You need to calm down. You’ve had a great deal of trauma, miss.”

I dropped back against the pillow, boneless. He called me miss. “You don’t know my name, do you?” I asked, meek.

Sensing all my energy was drained away, he moved back. A frown pulled at his lips. “You were brought in with no identification.” He began.

Fear unlike anything I’d ever felt wrapped around my heart and squeezed. I searched every corner of my mind for something. Anything.

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