The meadows were lush and green, soft against your bare s/c feet. A gentle breeze passed by, causing your soft h/c hair to blow in the wind. This was an absolute paradise, yet you felt that something was missing.
"_? Mon cher, can you hear me?"
A small smile broke out on your face. That voice… it sounded so familiar, yet…
Your smile faded. You had no idea who it was that was calling you.
"Hello?" Your voice came out in a croak.
"Mon Dieu – Doctor, she's talking! She's talking!"
Your brow furrowed in confusion. Doctor? What doctor? And why did it sound like the voice was speaking in another language half of the time?
Suddenly, the wind stopped. The image of the meadow of perfection slowly faded away. Within seconds, it was gone.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Ugh…" A light moan escaped your lips, and you fluttered your eyes open. Instead of seeing a clear blue sky and a green meadow, you saw an IV bag hanging on an electronic stand (which was the maker of that weird beeping noise), some kind of gas mask over your nose and mouth, and a set of unbelievably white walls.
"Where am I?" You murmured.
"Oh my God, cheri, I can't believe it."
A voice. 'The voice in my dream,' you thought to yourself. Gently and slowly, you turned your head towards the voice. A line of pain whizzed through your neck at the motion, causing you to shriek and immediately stay put.
"Shh," A warm hand gently stroked your cheek, and the face belonging to the mysterious voice came to view.
The man was quite young – probably only in his mid-twenties. He had shoulder-length blonde hair, a slight outcrop of stubble on his chin and cheeks, and blue eyes that looked very concerned.
"Don't try to move." The man said in a thick French accent. "You're still in bad shape from the attacks."
Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "A-attacks? I don't… um, I don't know you."
A surge of shock rippled across the man's blue eyes. His hand stopped stroking your face. "Y-you don't… you don't remember anything?"
A slight pang hit your heart, and your feeling from earlier intensified. You should know this man.
But the fact remained that you didn't know him.
"I don't know what you're talking about. And can you please stop touching me?"
The man pulled back his hand, looking shocked and somewhat hurt, and very concerned. "Do you know who you are?"
At that moment, you felt completely helpless. You felt like a scared and vulnerable kitten - unable to defend yourself and unable to run. You shook your head 'no'.
"Oh no," Was all that the man said.
"Ms. Price, you're awake." A second masculine voice entered the room.
You cringed. This was a voice you didn't recognize.
The man walked up to your bedside. He was wearing a long white coat and had a stethoscope hung around his neck; a doctor.
"Ms. Price," The doctor said, looking between you and a computer-like machine that you had failed to notice earlier. "How are you feeling?"
"I don't remember anything." You said, slowly and carefully, as if you were afraid that the doctor was suddenly going to whip out a knife or something. 'Chill out.' You reprimanded yourself. 'Just because you can't remember a bloody thing doesn't mean that everyone's out to get you.'
The doctor's facial expression became grim. "As I suspected, you've got amnesia; the loss of your memory. Do you know who you are?"
In a voice that seemed scared to admit it, you answered him. "No,"
The doctor nodded. "Well, your name is _ Price."
_ Price. _ was what the blonde man had called you in your dream. In a weird way, knowing that the blonde man had been right made you feel a bit better.
"Who is he?" You made a weak and painful motion with your hand towards the Frenchman. "I… I feel like I should know him."
At your words, the Frenchman seemed to relax a bit – not much, but a bit. "I am Francis Bonnefoy, _." He said gently. "I'm the personification of France."
He was the personification of a country? Somehow, that didn't seem out of the ordinary.
"Ms. Price," The doctor said. "You're the personification of a little island country on the coast of Europe called Amadallo. One month ago, your capital city, Leadsbrook, was bombed by," The doctor paused. "Well, it was bombed by terrorists. Only two days after, Amadallo had a severe earthquake which caused a large amount of damage to the country – to you." Lines of pain appeared on the doctor's face. "Half of the population was killed, and the government was put into chaos. I'm sorry, _."
"No," The word slipped from your mouth, and you stared into space. You couldn't believe it. Your country had almost died. You had almost died. Granted, you didn't remember what your country looked like, or the customs its people followed, but it was your country. You could feel its pain. You knew how big of an issue this was. No wonder you had amnesia.
You looked over at the Frenchman – Francis, his name was. "Are you my ally or something?"
Francis looked down at the ground uncomfortably. "Well, uh, not exactly cheri. You see, uh…"
"Mr. Bonnefoy," The doctor said. "I'm going to need a bit of time with my patient. How about you come back in a couple of hours? And tell the others to stay out for a while, please."
Francis looked torn. It was as if half of him wanted to run off gladly, but the other half wanted to stay with you, to see for himself that you were going to be okay. Finally, he responded, "Of course, Dr. Radcliffe." He turned to you and nodded. "Madmoiselle Price," And with that he left, leaving you in a whirlwind of confusion.
Only minutes ago, you had believed that your dreams were your life. Now you were in the real world, an amnesiac, a personified country who was barely keeping herself together, and on top of it all, you knew deep inside that Francis Bonnefoy was important to all of this. The thing you didn't know was why or how. But there was one thing that you did know.
All of this was giving you a killer headache.
While Dr. Radcliffe started injecting you with medicine, making sure your oxygen mask was working, and taking a sample of your blood, your eyes started to droop shut. What you truly needed was a nap. You knew that when you woke up, all of this would make sense. Maybe you'd even remember this Francis Bonnefoy guy.
And so you fell asleep.