Ok, hi, those who read this story (I have no idea if it will be no one or many, but just to give you a bit of ideas of what I'm doing.) So, I'm not sure whether I will continue this or not, but for a while I'll keep on writing and if you, the reader, wants to know about this story please review. I know that sometimes you're too tired, but each review would mean a lot to me. That's it.
Memories tend to reappear when the light turns on, and disappear when you recognize you're seeing light.
Yes, I see them. Red. Red light filling the space, which turns to green. Green like go ahead and go fast for me; green like 'just do it, just hit the peddle'. Green like possibility. There's a screeching and a squealing that tears at my ears like a person dying, but it's just burnt rubber. There are people that wrinkles are elongating when they look at me. There are people in my light hearing the scream of tires, and then they look at me. They look at me in the distance, frown, and whisper, "Oh, God." Like God I forgive them, I forgive them and pass by their wrinkles. I have made my mark on their face, and I forgive them. I smell the fire, the cackling in the metal, and see green. Red fire and green lights. Stop. Go. Stop. Go. Forgive them. Forgive me.
"Miss? Miss? Can you hear me?" A tarnished little voice says. One that always dreamt of being second class so someone could swoop her off her feet. I could just hear it. She dreamed of falling in love with a doctor for money and children, but now only has her job and coffee. I can hear her hesitation and soft-spoken lust for comfort in life. Yes, I can hear you.
"What are her vitals?" A masculine voice. This is the other voice's little fantasy guy. Except it's not the guy it's the money and the prospect of never working in these white little halls again where she can do what she was born to do. Be a mother, but after she gets that she'll have an affair and then their marriage would split. Unknowingly, he was already fucking some whore because he got bored of her. Yes, that's exactly what these voices would be. This doctor and nurse. (Oh, that's what they are! Did I know all along?)
I'm in a hospital. What am I doing in a hospital?
"That's the thing- she's fine. She's absolutely fine," says nurse girl. I'm fine. Whatever I did, I'm fine. Why am I in a hospital? I open my eyes and see the sharp light off tile. White tile that's been cleaned recently is beneath me. I am laying on white tile that's making my skin red and blotchy from chemicals. Ok. I try and make a sound, but nothing comes out. It reminds me of a time that I can't remember. A dream I thought I dreamed? A horror movie maybe?
"I thought you said she was having a seizure! I was told that an epileptic fit was happening while I was about to go in to surgery for what! Nothing! Lucy, were you just making this up to see me? If so, I am going to have to-" He was getting increasingly more angry by the second. Then I heard fumbling noises and clothes clinking together. A belt slumped to the floor. Zippers. What an interesting turn of events.
The perfect time to make an entrance.
"Oh, God," (had I heard that phrase before?) "Where am I?" I said finding my voice in the depths of my chest. I lifted my face from the tile and saw them intertwined in *cough* passion. He was currently on undoing her pants, while she was doing some acting. Panting, precisely. When they hear my hoarse voice talk, they're faces are pulled taut like rubber bands at me. I rub my head where there's a bruise forming. I love being right about relationships. I love being right about everything, actually. There is no way they can cover this up. I could black-mail them if I even felt like it. I try to get to my knees, and find that I have enough strength to do just that. For some reason I am empowered here where no one knows me or expects anything. Before I have the chance to speak they are dressed in seconds flat and lifting me up to the bed.
"Hello, my name is Doctor Gregson, and here is my nurse Lucy," he says eyeing me nervously. Did he notice he said 'my'? He is still getting his belt on discretely. He is bad at being discreet. She is looking around the room as if anyone else saw it. She likes the idea of it being secret, and of hidden rendezvous'.
"I won't tell anyone if you tell me everything about how I got here," I say to them both. Their hair is frazzled and their mouths are thin lines. I can see a future for them. I can see how this power situation turns them on. It will grow old when they are on an even playing field.
They look at me bluntly not realizing that I saw their little grope. Their mouths are now big O's. They learn quickly that an eye is for an eye. If they tell me about yesterday, I won't tell their superiors. But what do I remember about yesterday? All I remember is eating dinner with Mom, who had finally come in town to see me. She left, and I was pulling down the blinds. I searched over that memory, but nothing was after it. That was it. My hand tugging them down and the sound of their familiar fall sliding on the window.
"Lucy, can you tell her all of the file from last night?" he says now suddenly soft spoken like I have power over him. Wait, I do!
"Yes, ok, I'll read the nurse's notes," she says. She talks like a mouse. A rat trying to be an innocent mouse. Why do men like their belles to be two-faced? The virgin sex goddess. What an Oxi-moron.
"Nurse's notes: Ambulance brings a group of people at approximately 3. Four people with bruises, scrapes and all are unconscious. Two of them have broken bones while the other two have more minor injuries. They have no identification."
She stops looking at that page. She flips through some pages and then continues. "It branches off to the different patients. I'll read yours."
"Since no identification has been found we are required to do brief descriptions. This one looks about the age of thirty. Black hair cropped short."
"Black hair cropped short? Can I have a mirror?" I ask in a burst of panic. That's not me. That's not me. The doctor pervert gets up and finds me a mirror and brings it to me. Sure enough I now have black hair that's in a pixie cut, but what's more frightening is that I have green, diluted eyes. I gasp quietly because the thoughts start flying of whether I was drugged or someone did this to me. Green. Green eyes. I touch my eyes. Contacts.
"Do you want me to continue?" the mouse asks, but she looks like she wants out of this freak show. I shake my head and gesture for her to give me the notes. She hands them to me as someone knocks on the door. A dark shadow behind hazed glass. I'm expecting it to be that night. That the shadow is whatever happened to me last night coming back, but I dismiss it. I dismiss it. The pervert and mouse go outside to address the figure, and I have a fear building in my chest like a penny drop. Give a penny to charity, but it's give a penny to fear. One penny at a time. I look at the notes frantically.
'Bruises on neck, thighs, chest, and upper arms. At first, the signs screamed rape, but a test said that she was clean of any intrusion. She had blood shot eyes and dark eye sockets suggesting little sleep..." Then the notes go into doodling of a bored nurse who stopped working. What happened? Panic. Panic, not fear is setting in. Then I hear something that breaks me loose from down the hall. A news report. I hear snippets of a news report.
"An unidentified group of four stole a Jaguar yesterday around 10 o' clock last night. They brutally killed the man watching the cars, and drove in to downtown. Police soon followed, but the four were armed to the brim and held them off. They were last seen flying off the Gotham Bridge at a police blockade after affecting many innocents, and are presumed to be dead. Watch the streets for any suspicious activities. This story will be updated as information comes in."
I couldn't remember a thing, but I knew.
Four people with bruises.
An unidentified group of four.
They were all here in this hospital.
The dark shadow is pointing to me outside the door and conversing with the doctor and nurse. My brown hair is gone and I have temporary green eyes. What have I done?
Have I been recognized? Wait, they said unidentified. I can't be recognized, but a group of four...is suspicious. Unidentified. It all adds up. I look to my left and see a window slightly open. Mocking, asking. I get out of bed and go to it, seeing I am on the 2nd floor with bushes below. No. I'm innocent. That would just be like telling them I'm guilty, but guilty of what?
All I remember is pulling those blinds down, pulling them down over my memory, and only hearing burning rubber. "Just do it. Just hit the peddle." The sun flickered over my eyes, and I could see green. Just go. Just do it for me.
I opened the window a bit higher, and began my descent.