PROLOGUE
"...don't blame yourself...always loved..."
I begin to wake from what felt like a horrible dream, my body drenched in a cold sweat. I slowly open my eyes and try to ascertain my surroundings. "I'm in a bed...in an all-white room...filled with...wait..." My eyes drop down to my body, specifically my right arm. An I.V. line runs from it, connecting to a series of monitors and blood packs. "Why do I need...?" I want to sit up, but my body feels tired...weak...broken. I try to recall something, anything that will help me make sense of things, but a throbbing headache breaks my concentration. It feels like someone rammed a metal bar through my head and melted it. It takes every ounce of my will not to scream out loud from the pain. Not like I could scream anyway, my throat was dry and scratchy. How long have I been here? Directly under the monitors, I could barely make out what seemed like a memo to someone. My vision was still blurry from the blinding white light above me, but I strained my eyes in an attempt to make out some of the words anyway. "July...8th...2007... "multiple...severe...hy--hypo...hypovolemic..." I can't make sense of anything.
"Yeah, I'm outside his room right now." I can hear a voice through my room wall. I can't tell whether the voice belongs to a male or female, their voice was far too muffled. "Wait...they don't allow cell phones in...in...where am I anyway? A hospital?" I think to myself. I felt the tension slowly leaving my body. Whoever was on the other side of my room door was so concerned about my well-being that they had to use one, rules-be-damned. Any second now, they would come through my door and hopefully explain what the hell was--
"I...I dunno...nobody knows...even the doctors are saying he should be dead. He lost too much blood, and even died for 20 minutes." I heard the voice raise slightly in pitch. Not enough to tell who was speaking, but just enough to hear the slightest hint of...of...disproval. Me being alive obviously wasn't good news to whoever I was hearing. "He did suffer brain damage, but they don't know how much yet. I'm betting he doesnt even remember us...if he isn't a vegetable I mean." I thought I heard laughter echo from the hall. "Should I go in and look at him?" I heard the person ask.
The door handle slowly turned, but stopped halfway. I gripped my sheets tightly and my short, labored breaths quickened with each passing second. My mind was racing. Just then, i heard footsteps approaching from down the hall. "God...what now?" I think to myself. "Hey! You can't use that in here! Didn't you see the signs?" I heard someone tell the other person. "Oh, I'm sorry doctor, I know I'm not supposed to be on the phone, but I came as soon as I heard what happened. The receptionist told me visiting hours are over, but could I--"
"Afraid not." The doctor replied. "He's still very weak from surgery." I strained my ears, hoping the doctor would identify who was outside my door. "Maybe tomorrow, if he wakes up." I heard the person sigh. "Okay then. If my brother wakes up, let him know someone came for him. Just don't tell him too much. I want to suprise him tomorrow." And with that, the door handle was released, and I heard the person's departing footsteps down the hall.
My eyes were already fixed on the door when the doctor opened it, and stepped in. He was an average-looking, 40-something-year-old caucasian male with graying hair. I couldn't quite see what color his eyes were because of the glare from the lights. He looked relieved to see I was awake...although I had been misled before. "Hey there!" He beamed. "Glad to see you're up. My name is Dr. Richard Mintz. You sure gave us a scare, going into hypovolemic shock like that. How are you feeling?" All I could do was stare at him. "You seem disappointed." he joked. "I bet you'd be happier if I was a woman coming to nurse you back to health." Now was not the time to make jokes. His identity, let alone gender was not my concern at all. My throat and mouth were so dry, it hurt to swallow, or talk. The doctor walked over to the front of my bed, and picked up my medical chart. He adjusted his glasses and I heard him reading silently to himself. After a few seconds, he looked back at me.
His tone got noticably softer. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I lose you with that word?" the doctor asked. I began to wonder if my supposed brain damage had anything to do with the way he was talking. "Simply put, when you and those other two were brought here, so much blood had been lost you went into cardiac arrest. Your heart stopped beating and blood and oxygen stopped traveling to your brain." the doctor explained. "When that happens, we normally try to revive the patient within 15 minutes of the flatline, but after that we have to pronounce the patient dead. Even though you all shared similar wounds, the other two died shortly after getting here, but you--." He paused. "Somehow, your heart started beating exactly 5 minutes after we pronounced you dead. Usually, a patient suffers brain death immediately after the 15-minute mark, but after 20 minutes you still retain the vast majority of your higher brain functions."
He glanced at the chart again. " Although we're waiting for the results of the M.R.I. to determine the extent of damage, I'd say you're going to be okay for the most part." I have to admit that "most part" bit didn't help. "Oh, before I forget," the doctor began, "I said I wouldnt tell, but you might have a visitor tomorrow." My eyes widened. Maybe he would give away the identity of the person in the hall. Instead, he returned my chart to the foot of the bed and headed for the door. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go and express my sorrow to the families of the other two. Which, now that I mention it...the only person who came for you, was..." He caught himself mid-speech. "Well, they told me not to say." With one final glance in my direction, he added: "This job gets harder and harder every day, but it warms my heart to see someone that cares about you that much." Then he closed the door and started down the hall. I was no closer to getting answers to any of my questions. I laid there in silence, save for the steady beeping of my EEG and heart-rate monitors, thinking to myself. What happened to me? Where am I? How did I get here? Where is here? A thousand questions with no answers. I could hear crying coming from down the hallway. Cries of anguish emanating from the families of the two who came here with me.
"My baby!" I heard one woman scream. "My baby didn't do anything to anyone! Why?!" More questions came up. Who were the other two? What happened to us? Did I know them? Did they know me? "Why God?! It should've been me!" someone else cried out. I could barely think straight, there was so much noise traveling through the halls. Whatever happened to us, I was the sole survivor, and I truly felt horrible for the loss of those two families like I was partly responsible for what caused their deaths. "Maybe I should have died" I think to myself. "No one cares if I'm alive. No one even knows I'm here, except for--"
My eyes widen in shock. Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, a startling realization hit me. Even though I have no recollection of anything leading up to me being here, even though I died for 20 minutes and suffer from irreversible, unspecified amount of brain damage, even though I don't remember who I am...I remember I am an only child...