"Do you think he crashed the car on purpose?"
"Of course not, besides what be his motives?" someone replied, in hushed tones as if they didn't want to disturb the peace.
The voices were hazy, faint, but I could just about make use of what they were saying. It was hard to tell the voices they belonged too, I had not the slightest of ideas to who these people were. Every time I felt a connection to the murmurs, I was instantly shot down by the thumping that was coming from inside my head – my sister would probably say it's because my brain isn't devoured in wine for once. Quite right, annoyingly so.
"She's been missing since Friday, aren't you worried?" said another, the voice was loud and clear, in which I could recognise even if my hearing was near-scratched completely. It was Brie.
"Of course we're worried, but she's been found now. There is no need to call Seth."
"John's already on his way, there will be no speaking of this when he arrives..." Brie said, in a rather forceful tone.
Seth? Whose that? I thought. Possibly a friend?
Suddenly, I feel my eyes flickering. My body coming alive as all the nerves have woken up the stillness in my muscles.
"Nikki?" questions Brie, as she comes rushing to my bed side. As my eyes widen, and my blurry pupils begin to come into focus; like adjusting a pair of spectacles when trying to look closer into the distance. Only difference is Brie's already up close and personal. "Can you hear me," she panics.
"What day is it?" That's all I could manage to say. I look around, the space is filled with bodies hovering around me, like a swarm of flies around a lump of gone-off meat. Many faces that I recognise from work; Dean Ambrose, Paige, Heath Slater, Nattie, Ari, and lastly Brie, with few doctors standing at the door frame watching over me.
"It's 31st of July," answered Heath. 31st July? How long have I been here? I thought. I didn't even have to think about who it was, or even look. His deep West Virginian accent spoke out to me. Heath Slater.
"So it's not Friday?" I questioned. They all look at me, confused. I'm clearly not getting what they all know.
"Boo boo, it's Saturday..." called out Arianne. Saturday?
"But, yesterday we were celebrating Naomi's Birthday?" I say with a slight ounce of question to my voice.
"Look at the board in front of you, the date, it's Saturday," says Ambrose, he's right. The white board in front of me with all the patients names from my ward sit underneath it. Concern filters through each and every one of them, have I had a concussion?
"I'm so confused," I say in pain, as I lift my right arm up slowly, placing my right hand over my eyes. The throbbing in my head increases as I try to gather my thoughts all at once to sort them into some kind of order, trying to find the solution of my question of – what's happened?
As I'm laying there, hiding my eyes from the beam of light that escapes through the blinds; I can hear a discussion happening before me.
"Get her some water," requests Brie to Slater.
"I'll get Doctor James," announces Arianne. "Find out whether they have more news on her results yet!"
Results?
"Stop!" Without realising, I'm shouting out for a halt. Too much is happening around me, and it's driving me insane. That's probably the results they are all desperately in need of. My sanity is definitely intact to some degree, and I don't need a piece of paper to tell me otherwise."Just sit, don't move," I say, and everyone does as I instruct. Just the silence I needed to enter the room, finally some piece. I can think.
"Sorry, Nicole." A couple of them quietly mutter.
"What were these results you speak of?" I finally ask the question that's been bothering my brain, hopefully some answers will straighten out the banging in the left side of my temple.
"You were tested, Doctor James wanted to assess you as you took quite the fall," Natalya chimed in. "We're just waiting for them now."
"What fall?" I ask.
"Well, we don't know that for sure," Dean admits.
"Dean!" Health calls, then does some gestures to warn him off the subject. I just raise my eyebrow at them both, hoping that it will budge them to spit it out. Heath exhales, "Go on," he gestures a hand – allowing Dean to continue. Whilst everyone bows their end in silence, not making eye contact. Dean, for once, looks around the room for clarification before he speaks. But I become impatient.
"So?"
"Nicole," he begins. "The reason why we don't know is because that's what John says what happened."
John? I heard that name before, I know Dean as Jon, but nobody except the Uso's call him that. John Morrison? But he was released years ago, and I haven't spoken to him since. JBL? I work with him, who knows. It's impossible to tell.
"Who is John?" Then shock faces surround me, "What?"
"Please tell me you're joking around..." says Arianne, in a worrying tone. I just stare at her, frowning at her, confused. That's when her eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. "She's not joking..." Hands cover the faces of the girls, and a couple of heads in the hands of the guys. Then there's Dean, he sits, with the same facial expression as myself – probably gently filtering what I've just said and pondering how he's going to respond.
"OK," Dean begins, his hands grazing around his stubble, near his chin. "If I say; John Cena, does that name flick any memories?" I just shake my head, his eyes turn to the others for help. That's when I know something is bad – when does Dean Ambrose require help from anyone? Nobody responds.
"You're scaring me!" I wince as I make an attempt to sit up.
"Not half as much as you're scaring us, Nicole," Natalya says, she's got a hold of my arms at this point – to ease the pain, whilst Naomi gathers some extra pillows from the chair at my bedside to put behind my back for support.
"What if we just ask her questions," begins Naomi. "She will answer them and then we'll know where the loop holes are, then we can tell her what's missing?" Everyone nods in agreement, great more thinking – I say to myself.
"What's your name?" asks Heath. Everyone just stares in complete disgrace.
"Really? That's what you ask..." I say. "Nicole Garcia-Colace."
Just as others are about to pipe-up to contribute questions, a man walks in, dressed in a white coat. My suspicions tell me this must be Doctor James. When my eyes travel round for conformation, I spot his name tag on the right side of his jacket. 'Dr. P. James'
"Ah, fantastic. You're awake," he says, as he comes strolling in like there is no care in the world, I instantly become annoyed at his careless nature – but then I realise this must just be the warm front he has to deliver to all of his patients, so that they don't sense panic. "I've got your results from your brain scan you had this morning."
"And?" I say. Brie nudges me. "Sorry," I mutter. "It's just I have no clue on what's going on, I don't even understand what the results are for..."
"Well before any of you panic, the results came through as positive. Meaning that you're in recovery. Your accident just resulted in organic causes, meaning there is no brain damage. No operations involved, you have slight amnesia but giving time to rest and to gather your memories, you'll be fine," he says.
"How is she supposed to get her memories back?" Brie asks.
"The amnesia may have tampered with your memories, this could be large-scale. The memories could include your important milestones, events, people and the vital facts you have been told or taught," he pauses. "To get them back...that depends on how severe the amnesia is, but as she only has traumatic amnesia – her memory loss is only temporarily. But I wouldn't force the memories, let them come on their own."
Many faces in the room drop slightly to relax, some good news. Panic has gone slightly, and smiles are arising from the surface of their lips. Mine on the other hand hasn't. The doctor gives the envelope to Dean, nods and walks out of the door swiftly.
"Well that was some good news!" says Dean, as he begins to get up from his seat, then tells us he has to make an urgent phone call. As he reaches the door, Slater asks 'Is it Rollins?' Whatever that means, I'm guessing he is referring to someone. Another who I've never heard of. Dean just nods and looks up at me, then leaves.
"Whose Rollins?" I ask the others, they just sit in silence. Was it a hard question to answer? "Well..."
"Just a friend of Dean's," Brie smiles, so I nod. Then Natalya changes the subject to shoes straight after, I ignore this. Wondering whether there is something suspicious going on hurts my head.
