I really wish I could remember. I mean, I really really wish I could remember. Remember why my best friends are glued to my side, why my older brother and sister never come home anymore, why my boyfriend has sacrificed his life for me, and what I was doing the night of my accident.

My name is...my name is. I guess I'll go by whatever they call me. I'm not exactly sure what it is yet. I've been called Miss Rossdale, Ginger, Brooke, and Novaleigh. Maybe I had a quadruple identity. Or I had one of those mile long middle names. I really like the name Novaleigh, Ginger is nice too though. But, my boyfriend calls me Maryelle, and thats the prettiest one I've heard. So, my name is Maryelle, I'm a senior at Dover Central. I live in Delaware. And something, I'm not sure what, but something happened on a Saturday night 2 months ago.

I can't remember anything. I want to know why no ones telling me anything, I want to know why my Dad is here at the hospital all the time, but I never see my Mom. I want to know what I was thinking. I want to know who I was. I think I want to be me, but it seems I didn't live a Golden life...it seems as if everyone I/She knew, is glad this happened, but it also seems, that they're disappointing, because whatever I was doing, the accident didn't kill me. And I don't think I can live where all people think about is death.

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Kyle, my supposed boyfriend, walks in the room. He is wearing the smile on his face, the smile that is telling me he is fake. I'm not sure how, but his smile is screaming that he and I didn't belong together.

"How are you?" his voice is smooth.

I fiddle with the sheets, and sit up a little in my hospital bed. "Fine." I'm a liar.

"That's good." He's a liar. We both know it. Neither of us can admit it. "The doctors say you can come home in two days, Maryelle.

I hear him, but I'm not comprehending anything that Kyle says. I don't comprehend anything anyone tells me. "You call me Maryelle." I say, he looks up, hearing my voice obviously startled him. "Mom calls me Ginger, Dad calls me Brooke, all of the girls coming in here call me Novaleigh... you call me Maryelle."

He looks down. Kyle reaches up towards his neck and fidgets with his collar. He's blinking rapidly. He's about to tell me a lie. "Maryelle...you were many different people...I guess. You were Ginger, you were Brooke, you were Novaleigh, to me, you were Maryelle."

My eyes are stuck on him. "What's that supposed to mean." For a few seconds, the only thing I can hear in the room is the heart monitor.

Kyle pulls his chair closer to my bed. "That means, Maryelle, you are a quadruplet, but, you have a very odd syndrome. The other three children, were not born."

"Wouldn't that make me a single child then?"

He looks away for a brief moment. "Not exactly. You were born with 4 separate personalities. It sounds odd, but thats how it is. Your brain got damaged in the womb. Since you were the only child to survive, you had all of the potential brains. The names were picked out for the babies, and each person in the room named one of the babies."

I blinked.

"I liked Maryelle. So I'm dating Maryelle. You have another boyfriend you know. His name is Connor. He's dating Brooke."

"So basically, the people that call me names, only hang out with me, when I'm that person?"

Kyle leaned back in his chair. "Now your catching on."