I couldn't sleep.

The incessant pounding in my head couldn't seem to find it within itself to show mercy on me. The nurses said it's to be expected when you receive a harsh blow to the head, but I have a different theory for the causes of this unrelenting pain. I have been coming in and out of consciousness every since I got here, so everyone has deemed me disoriented and unable to make sense of time or reality in any capacity, but there are some things which never seemed to leave me. So, with all that is out of my control or my remembrance, I've found myself to be holding particularly close those elements which make me feel rooted somewhere instead of floating around in a violently sickened dream, despite the fact that these realities which I have not forgotten are the ones that keep my head turning.

They keep asking me if I remember anything about my life prior to the incident, almost harassing, as if each new day should bring forth new information. If that is the case, I have failed. Instead, I keep telling them (or writing, rather, as I can't seem to bring myself to form one coherent sentence) the same five things:

1. My name is Paige McCullers.

2. I am 24 years old.

3. I have a dog, Rudy.

4. I swam for my college, Stanford, for four years.

5. There is someone at home waiting for me, and I need to get back to her.

It's the last one that always clings to my thoughts for some reason, and it's that very one that I blame for this incredulous stabbing that keeps me awake at all hours. There was a time when, if I stirred restlessly in the night, I would turn over to find you there. Instead, a pocket of harsh, cold air has taken your place, and my only constant is this dull pain.

I should be resting, they told me; it's crucial to the recovery process. But here I am, wide awake and staring at the door, as doing so enough would mean you would come walking through it. But it's been four days now, and you haven't come yet, which makes me wonder if you're even waiting for me at all.


I haven't had a single visitor since I arrived here. I'm trying my best to get on with the nurses and doctors that often pass through, but it's a chore. After all, the extent of our interactions is limited to food trays, needles, and gauze. And even though I make an effort to start conversation as they are changing the bandages on my leg, or checking for progress on my memories, or moving my body's position so I don't get bed sores, I still have developed a harsh distrust for all who have dealt with me. I suppose that's because they all refuse to tell me what's happened or why no one's brought me my things. Everything is confidential in this place, and I'm starting to grow bitter.

I'm approaching the 24th hour, or at least that's what they're telling me. I suppose I should try to get some rest. Maybe you'll be by my side when I wake up. Here's to hoping.


I must've passed out somewhere between 3 and 4 this morning as I was awakened by the obnoxious prodding of one of my nurses. She kept nagging me that I wasn't getting in enough fluids, but you know how I am when I'm restless. I'm not in the mood to eat or drink or force elated energy. I just want to be by myself to work things out in mind to bring some sense of control in my life, even though these thoughtful deliberations more often leave me more distressed than I was before being left alone to my own devices. I don't care, though. I don't care that I'm depressed. In fact, I wish they would leave me alone so I could have a moment to sulk in my own misery so I can at least get it out of my system. All of this fake cheeriness is only irritating my emotions more and letting them build up. But they don't offer plates for smashing in this place. Instead, they just add more bags to my I.V. so I am numb to everything except my thoughts. I'm going crazy in here. I just wish they'd let me go.


I didn't know how long it had been since I checked in to this place. I didn't even know how long it had been since I last ate. Each day blurred into the next in this mind numbing cycle of questions and sleep. So when a nurse stood in the doorframe to tell me something other than nagging or forewarning interrogation, I was left questioning if I had heard it all right. "Ms. McCullers, you have a visitor."

"Who is it?" I asked expectantly. Maybe she was coming for me after all and just got caught up things. But when the name left the nurse's lips, so too had any hope I had stored within me.

"Rachel Davenport. She said she was a friend of yours?"

I sighed, nodding my head as I wiped away the sleep from my eyes. "Yeah, okay. Would you let her in?"

The nurse stepped to the side to reveal the first familiar face I had seen in all my stay here. She walked in cautiously, taking off a scarf and pulling a bag off her shoulder as she approached my bed.

"Hey, Paige. It's Rachel, from Stanford. Remember me?" There was a hesitancy in her voice that unnerved me. It made me feel fragile, and I began to wonder what exactly had happened that night that would make a girl who I was so used to pushing me around and teasing me to suddenly treat me as if one sudden movement could send me shattering into a million tiny fragments.

"Yeah, I remember you. How could I forget the person who almost got us kicked out of the bar because her singing was so god awful?"

I laughed, and I suppose that was all Rachel needed to know that it was okay if she laughed too. And, for a moment, it was as if everything were as it was. But then she gave me that sympathetic look again, and I realized that perhaps it would be one I would have to start getting used to.

"How've you been holding up?" she asked, reaching out to cover my hand with her grasp.

"Alright, I guess. I uh, I don't really know much of what happened. They keep pumping me full of god knows what to keep me sedated. I guess they've realized what a pain in the ass I get to be when I'm all cooped up," I joked, offering a smile. Rachel smiled back, and I could tell she was trying her best to talk to me as if we weren't in a hospital right now, but Rachel had a nasty habit of revealing all her thoughts in the way her eyes looked on you.

"But for those small moments that they've left my I.V. running low, I start to feel it all again. The constant stabbing in my brain, the way it hurts to breathe, the radiating pain that shoots up and down my arms and through my hip. I'd think it were all a dream if I didn't keep waking up to the same thing. But sometimes I still try to convince myself it's all in my head because they haven't explained a thing to me."

Rachel sighed, brushing a thumb back and forth across the exposed part of my hand. "I'm sorry, Paige. We don't have to talk about all that right now if you don't want to. I didn't mean to bring that all up."

"It's fine, Rachel, honestly. I just haven't talked to anyone besides doctors and nurses for what seems like forever. It's nice just having you around. Really."

"I'm sorry I couldn't come visit you sooner. The doctors wanted to make sure you were stable before letting visitors in. Today was the first day they said yes."

"So what have they told you? Please, tell me. I'm so confused, I don't know what's going on I-"

"They haven't told me anything, Paige. I know we are real close and everything, but we aren't family, remember? I'm not allowed to know anything unless you disclose that with me."

I huffed. "Right. Stupid doctor-patient confidentiality, huh?"

"Yeah," Rachel sighed, avoiding eye contact. "But hey, I brought some things that might help keep your mind off the rest. Want me to show you?"

"I'd love a good distraction right now," I said, trying to push myself up before groaning at the sharp pain that coursed through my chest as I did so.

"Hey, easy there. Let me help you." Rachel got up, helping to lean my body forward as she adjusted some pillows so I could sit more upright. "There, how's that?"

"Much better," I breathed. "Anyway, let me see what you got."

Finally, Rachel seemed to be returning to her usual, energetic self as she reached down into the backpack she had brought with her and began placing things on the bed.

"First, I thought you would like some things to make it a little more homie in here, so I took some things from your apartment," Rachel said, revealing an assortment of picture frames alongside a blanket that she placed next to me. "Want me to put these on your table?"

I picked up the first frame that caught my eye- a picture of me and Emily from a bonfire we had to celebrate us graduating. We were both laughing at a thought that I have long since forgotten, but just looking at the way Emily's smiled glowed, bringing competition to the embers of that fire, brought a familiar feeling to my chest that was warm and comforting. "Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks, Rach."

She set the frame right next to my bedside, making sure it was angled in my direction so I need not so much as glance down to get a good look. "I also brought you a blanket. And don't even try to pretend like it's not your favourite. You brought that thing to every overnight trip we had in college," Rachel teased, laughing on her own for once.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I remember," I bantered, taking the fabric up in my shaky hands and bringing it to my face, trying to smell something other than a hospital for once. "Thanks, Rach. You don't know how much I appreciate all of this."

"Wait, I wasn't done," Rachel stopped me, digging into her backpack once again. "I brought your camera. I don't know if you remember, but I started giving you lessons before- Well you got this camera for your birthday and you started getting really into it. I thought it might be a fun thing to do when you get bored in here." She handed me the camera, and I turned it on, scrolling through the pictures I had taken before. When I didn't say anything, Rachel spoke again. "I would have brought you an Olympic-sized pool if I could, but seeing as that is not possible, I thought-"

"It's perfect Rachel, really. I love it. Thank you."

I set the camera down beside me and outstretched my arms, prompting Rachel to stand up and lean in so I could hug her. "I was really worried about you, McCullers," she whispered in my ear, clearly choking back emotion. "Don't you ever do that to me again."

"I wont," I whispered back. "I promise."

But honestly, I didn't exactly know what it was that I had promised not to do. I had only hoped that I could keep that promise, if I could ever find out what happened.


I apologize for its brevity, but I didn't want the first chapter to be too overwhelming in length. Please leave feedback as you wish; I really appreciate it!