Chapter 1

Darkness.

This darkness consumed her. Ate at her very being. She was lost in this darkness. But then there was a light. Glowing. Dim. Soft. But still this light was present. And with this light came memories, that unbeknownst to Ally Dawson, were not hers.

In fact, these memories did not belong to anyone. They were made up. Falsified. Figments of the imagination. But to the brunette in a coma, they were so vivid. So real. So normal. Then, she woke up.

Ally's P.O.V.

Pain.

That was the first thing I felt. My mind was registering it very quickly. Overwhelmingly. It felt like somebody was sawing at, drilling holes into, and hammering nails into my head, all at the same time. I moved slightly. It was excruciating. I would have screamed had by throat not been so dry. My ribs felt broken, but I could feel the wrappings around my torso that were supposed to help the healing process. I could also feel the cast on my left arm and the splint on the middle and ring finger on my right hand.

That was good. Me being a righty, these broken fingers wouldn't hinder me from writing in my book. My book. Would this be an entry or what? That was when I wondered. What would I be entering in my book? What had happened? How did it happen? Where am I? How did I get here?

These questions and a million more flooded my brain. That was when I noticed the light. I don't know how I didn't notice it before. I was Ally Dawson. I was always observant. This white light seared through my eyelids. Then I noticed the sounds too. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. God was that annoying. Almost as annoying as Austin poking me.

Austin.

Trish.

Dez.

Dad.

Remembering the most important people in my life made me want to find out what had happened even more. So I tried hard to focus on my senses. I felt a soft bed beneath me. A barely-there piece of fabric lightly covering from my neck to mid-thigh. A hospital gown no doubt. Needles. Needles that poked into the veins of my arm's inner elbow. These needles supplied medication, blood, and various other things I needed to stay alive. I felt breathing tubes connected to my nose, supplying desperately needed oxygen. I felt a bandage wrapped around my head, that seemed like the worst of all the damage that had been ravaged upon my body, I could feel it.

That was when I started hearing more that just the incessant beeping of the machine that was no doubt measuring my heart rate. I heard a telephone ringing in the distance. I heard the murmurs of doctors discussing various treatments. I heard the crying of those who probably just receive the most devastating news of their lives. I remember hearing news like that. When I was informed that my mother's plane went down in the Amazon; after two years in the Peace Corps. Penny Dawson never made it home to her eight-year-old daughter.

That was when she heard it. A voice. Not just any voice, but the voice of her father, Lester Dawson.

"Do you really think she'll ever wake up? I mean it's been three months Penny. Do you think we should take her off life support?" Wow. Have I really been out for three months? Think of how much school I missed! Now how am I gonna get into a good college? It'll probably be fine I mean I'm only fifteen right? Wait. If I've been out for three months and I was born March 15 and the last day I remember was Valentine's Day then I'm already sixteen. It also means that sophomore year is almost over. My dad was pretending to talk to my mom again. He always did this when he was stressed or had a tough decision to make. WWPD? What would Penny do? This didn't phase me at all. What did phase me was when another voice responded.

"I don't know Lester. I really don't know."

Mom?

At this I finally opened my eyes.

In chairs near the foot of my bed sat my parents deep in conversation. Obviously contemplating one of the biggest decisions of their lives. Would they kill off they're only child? They didn't have much of a choice now seeing how I'm alive. I didn't really want to hear they're decision on the matter because I didn't want to detest them if they some how came to the conclusion it was the time to take me off life support. So I spoke up.

"Mom? Dad?"

My parents looked over to me. Their eyes instantly turned from ones of sadness and despair to the ones of people who just won a Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes (1) or had their only daughter come out of a coma.

My parents rushed to either side of my hospital bed. Both crying their eyes out. Happy tears. Probably the first happy tears they've shed in over three months. Although I loved my dad, I only looked at my mom. Iris's stormed over with confusion. So I asked the question.

"Mom… how are you hear?" At this my moms eyes clouded over with a confusion similar to mine.

"What do you mean sweetie?"

"You died eight years ago," I stated simply. There was no point in beating around the bush. It was a simple fact. The women kneeling before me now was supposed to be dead. Only then did I realize how I sounded. "Not that I don't love that you're alive again, but how?"

At this, my mother exchanged a glance with my father across my broken body.

"Honey do you really not remember?"

"No. I vividly recall dad getting a phone call that you're plane had crashed in the Amazon when you were flying home from the Peace Corps. when I was eight." Another worried glance.

"Honey, I never went into the Peace Corps."

"Yes you did."

"Ally, you know your mother would never set foot in somewhere so germ infested, dirty, and gross. If she can't wear her 5 inch platform pumps somewhere, she's not going," my dad interjected. What the hell is he talking about? My mother had the worst balance in they world. She would break her ankle with less grace then a drunken wildebeest. This was wear my mom spoke up.

"Ally-cat, the doctor said that after the accident you might have some brain damage, memory loss. We should probably go get him."

"WAIT!" I exclaimed, at this my mother turned around, her hand resting upon the rooms handle, "what happened?" My mom looked to my father at this. He always had been a great storyteller.

"Ally, it was Valentine's Day," my dad started, at least I had that memory right, "Dallas was walking you home from your date," WAIT WHAT!? Why was I on a date with Dallas?! Not that I was complaining, that boy was hot as hell, "when you crossed the street over to our house, some drunken college kids rounded the corner top speed and hit you head on," I cringed. No wonder why I am in so much pain, getting hit by a car now seems like quite a logical explanation to the amount of pain coursing through my veins.

"Wow," was all I could say. How else are you supposed to respond to that? "And I'm still alive? Badass!" I expected my parents to yell at me for cursing. It wasn't something I normally did. But they stared at me like it was normal. Expected even. And with this my mother walked out of the room only to appear moments later with a handsome male doctor.

"Hello Ally, I'm Dr. Sampson," I reached up to shake the man's hand. It hurt a little but the doctor kept a light grip. "I just want to ask you a few questions to see how your memory's doing." I simply nodded in reply. "First, name all immediate family members that you remember to be living when before the accident."

"Lester Dawson."

"Is that it Ally?" The doctor glanced over at my mother who was sitting at a stroller that I didn't register being there before. Was that all?

"Last I remember my mom was dead and I'm an only child." While the doctor kept a poker face, I could see tears spring to my mothers eyes.

"Ally," my father said, "you have a brother." At this my mother slowly spun the stroller around to face me. Seated in the small baby carrying device was a boy appeared to look like the baby in my six-month-old pictures. I gaped.

"How old is he?"

"Seven months," my mother replied. Woah. The silence that overtook the room reeked of awkwardness. The doctor then cleared his throat to continue with next question, most likely in hopes of diffusing some of the uncomfortable tension.

"How old are you?"

"I have to be sixteen at this point right?"

"That's right. Good. Any pets?"

"My bird, Owen." I saw my parents slightly smile. I knew I was getting these questions right.

"Close friends?"

"That's easy my best friends are Austin Moon, Trish de la Rosa, and Dez Worthy!" Now my parents were back to frowning. I frowned back at them. "What?"

"Ally," my mom said, "Trish is your best friend and Dallas is your boyfriend, but I have never heard of these Austin and Dez people."

Oh no.

(1) $5000 a week for life