Chapter 1 - Awakening

I heard the dripping of the faucet, smelled the rust and decay, but I could not get myself to move. I was paralyzed, a force stronger than me holding me down on the floor. All thoughts left my mind in this one dire moment of need.

I heard muffled steps on the other side of the door, and I tried to inch my way further from it and controlled my breathing. This is not how I would die; I refuse to let it happen.

The door opened and I soon saw the thick, dirty boots of my attacker make their way around the room.

"Wake up, darling."

The voice came out of nowhere, and I found myself looking around, straining to understand where the voice was coming from. It couldn't be my attacker, could it?

"Open your eyes, honey. Wake up."

But my eyes are open! I blinked and realized that my eyes were indeed closed. I opened them completely, afraid that my attacker might get me, only to find that I was in a completely different place. White walls, warm bed, a tv, and other homey things were around this new room. I heard a little beeping sound to my right; when I turned I saw a mechanic machine with lines and numbers on them. Attached to the machine was a long cord connected to some sort of clip on one of my fingers.

I'm in a hospital. Why am I in a hospital?

Panicked, I sat up, disturbing the needles attached to my arm. Just a moment later, though, two delicate arms held me firmly to the bed. I looked at the person holding me down. Standing next to the bed was a tall, beautiful woman in her mid thirties. Her dirty blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and her soft blue eyes looked down at me with worry. She was the picture of sympathy.

"Honey, you're sick. You can't get up." Her voice was soft, yet authorative, but I wasn't listening. My only objective was getting out of here.

I pushed her arms out of the way and began to get off of the bed. As I did so, I saw the woman press a button the side of the bed. Immediately, a man and another woman rushed into the room and marched towards my be. My panic began to grow as I saw myself being cornered by these strange people.

Why am I here? What's going on? I tried to think back to see how I got in here, but couldn't come up with anything. I tried and tried, but my mind was coming up blank. By now, my panic was over an extreme, and I couldn't think of a way to escape from the people in the room.

I can't remember anything! My brain was a mess and there was no way of organizing even a single thought. But one thing was for sure, I have no memories. I couldn't even remember my name. Nothing.

"Calm down!" the woman with the blonde hair said. She tried to reach out to me with her slender hands, but I backed away further up on the bed until finally standing, ripping the needles and patches on my body.

"We're not going to hurt you!" the man exclaimed, coming closer to the bed. "We're here to help! We're doctors, we're healing you."

"G-g-get away f-from me." My voice sounded weak, even to my ears, and I knew it had been some time since I used it. "Get away!"

I felt fresh hot tears run down my cheeks and couldn't help the sob that broke from my throat. I felt weak and helpless, no hope of getting free. Where would I go if I got out? The thought crossed my mind quickly and I realized that I had nowhere to go, no one to meet, nothing to look for on the outside of this hospital room. I have nothing, not even my name.

My legs gave way under me, and I collapsed onto the bed in a heap, crying all the while.

"What's happening?" I asked through sobs. "Where am I? Who am I?"

The blonde haired woman reached out to me again, but I didn't have the strength in me to fight her off. She put her arms around my sorry form and held me close while I cried. The other two left soon after, sensing that I was no longer a threat. The blonde woman made soothing sounds, calming me down before she spoke again.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said, shifting us so that she could look at my tear stroked face. "I just want to help you."

I looked at her, her soft blue eyes gazing into mine. I saw no lies in them, just sympathy and compassion.

With a shaky voice I asked "W-what's wrong with me?"

The woman sighed and looked down. "We were hoping you could help us out with that. The police found you in a park, naked and unconscious. No identification or anything that might give us a clue as to who you are." She paused and looked at me in the eye. "Who are you?"

"That's something I think we'd both like to know."

She looked at me with surprise. "You don't know who you are? Do you know your name?"

"No," I said simply. "I can't remember anything. I don't even know what year it is. All I remember is the dream I had before you woke me up." Tears made their way down my face as I said that.

The woman looked at me again. She seemed confused and frustrated by what I said. By this point I was exhausted and tired of crying, not wanting to be so weak in an unknown situation. I willingly talked to the woman and cooparated with everything she asked, which wasn't much, but I still didn't trust her. I couldn't trust anybody.

Some time later the blonde woman got up and began to walk to the door. When she got there she turned and said "my name is Susan. If you need anything, just press the red button by your bed. I'll be near."

Everything felt so new and weird. The noises of machines filled the room. The sterile smell was intoxicating. Everything made my head spin. I was soon giving up hope of remembering anything or of know what was wrong with me.

For the next couple of days police officers came and went asking me questions that I didn't know the answers to, and doctors filed in with needles and tools, trying to get me stable and strong. Susan came more than anyone and made me feel welcome in this strange place. A familiar rhythem began taking place everyday.

Since I woke up I began to learn a few things about myself, thanks to Susan and the doctors. I now knew that I was 19 years old, and had intense damage to the part of my brain which controlled long-term memory. The doctors said that maybe throughout time and therapy, my memory might return, but I heard the doubt in their voices. There was little hope for me, and I knew it.

Two weeks later, I found myself actually enjoying one of the many realities tv shows in the afternoon when Susan walked into the room.

"Hey darling!"

"Hello Susan," I replied warily.

"So, I have some exciting news!" She sat on the chair next to my bed.

Her excitement let a sliver of hope enter my core and I sat up immediately. "Did you find out anything about me?"

Her posture dropped a bit and she lowered her gaze. "Wel... no." My hope quickly deflated. "B-but the good news is that today we get to name you! The police say that we need some way to identify you from now on and to be honest I'm kind of tired of calling you 'darling' all the time. A name will make things so much better."

"I'm sorry to say that I don't share your excitement. I would be excited if I found out who the hell I am!"

So I was a little harsh, sue me. Anybody would have been the same way after weeks of medical checks, therapy, police checkups, and loss of identity and memory.

"Oh, don't be like that," she said. She pulled a book out of the bag she was carrying and handed it to me. After my questioning look she said, "it's a name book. It's normally used for babies, but we can use it for your situation."

I looked at the book warily.

"Why don't you just name me? It'll be easier."

"We can't do that. This is your decision to make. You have to be the one who does this... Kind of like picking your new life, your new identity."

I sighed and opened the book. This was going to be a long night.

The next day, Susan came in around noon to check on my name search. She seemed disappointed when I informed her that I had found nothing of interest in there and spend more time watching tv. The Real World was an addicting show.

"You have to take this seriously, honey," she said, turning the televiosion off. "The hospital will be releasing you very soon, and by that time we need a name. How else would we identify you? Believe it or not, names are given to those who are important or loved, and there are people here that want a name for you."

"Is that some cheesy way of saying that I'm important or loved?"

Again, sue me.

Susan sighed and stood up. She reached for the remote, turned on the tv and walked to the door. She cleaned up what was left of my lunch and began to leave.

"It's not cheesy. But yes, you are," she said. "Maybe if the book won't inspire you, maybe a movie might do the trick." And with that she left the room.

I turned to the tv and let my mind roam free.

I'm important. I'm loved. I let a small smile play on my lips as the cartoon movie began. I don't know how long I had been asleep, but when I awoke Susan was in my room checking my blood pressure and other basics.

"Hi."

"Hey."

She continued her check-up silently. She was gentle and caring, like always, the one person in the hospital that I almost trusted.

"You know, I was watching this movie," I began, grabbing her attention. I don't know why, but I felt the need to talk to her. "It's about a girl that's lost and trying to find her way home. She comes up against crazy obsticles, but she finds herself through the journey and she finds her home. Kind of inspired me, you know?"

"Really?" Susan asked.

"Yeah, and I kind of got to thinking about the whole 'name' thing. I think I might have found my new name..."

"Well..." she began, a smile creeping up in her face. She extended her hand out to me. "My name is Susan. And you are...?"

"Alice. My name is Alice."