She lay awake late into the night, trying to sort out the mess in her head. It was an impossible task. Her thoughts circled each other in endless loops like two serpents, each consuming the tail of the other. Outside the walls of her hospital room, reality was distorted. As she considered the events of the past few days—or were they years?—she knew the real world to be as fragmented as her dreams. Sometimes, it felt as if time stopped altogether. At others, the gaps folded in on themselves and time skipped ahead carrying her along with it. Beyond these fractured memories was an infinite grey wall, separating her from her past.
There had to be one memory she could latch onto. She was certain if she could just focus on a single fixed point in her life, the sequence of everything else would fall into the proper order. But there was nothing. She couldn't even remember the accident which had stolen her memories. It was as if she had been hollowed out by a woodcarver, and nothing had been put back in. She was missing something…everything. As far as she could tell, she had always been this way.
How long had she sat alone in that padded cell before the door had been opened by the handsome young man with the unsettled fervor in his blue eyes? Finally released, though it hardly felt like freedom, she had followed his directions and found the small pawn shop he had described. The man, Mr. Gold, was inside. His eyes filled at first with disbelief, then joy, and at last tears as she had told him what little she could. She remembered walking behind him in the afternoon woods before falling onto hard, black asphalt, slick with the evening rain. Intense pain licked the nerves of her left arm. He looked around and touched her, healing the damage done to her body. He erased the stinging ache, but she was not altogether certain he was not the cause of it in the first place. Was this real or just another dream?
She knew the man existed, because he had visited her in the hospital once. His kiss had interrupted one of her nightmares; her subsequent screams had driven him from the room in tears. The man was real, as was his affection. Now, she questioned whether her dreams were, at least in part, repressed memories. Of course, castles and monsters were just fantasy. But the heart of a beast could be concealed within even the best-dressed man. Although she felt nothing for him now, she loved him in her dreams. Did that mean she was evil? No, she felt certain she was not. Maybe she had been, once. The thought frightened her.
Soft footsteps echoed just outside her door. Visiting hours were over, so she assumed it was a nurse beginning patient rounds. However, the footsteps were odd, punctuated with a metallic click. Quick-slow. Quick-slow. Quick-slow. Someone opened the door casually as if confident she was awake. It was the man she had seen in her dreams, the man who wept at the sight of her, the man who, if she believed all of it, was part magic and part demon. She pushed the idea from her mind, repeating her mantra. Still, she sat upright in bed and followed his every movement with her eyes.
He walked over to the side of her bed, saying, "It's late, I know. But it couldn't wait till morning." He pulled a small porcelain cup out of his jacket pocket. "I have something for you," he said as he held it out to her. "I know you don't remember, but just indulge me. Please."
She furrowed her brow and took the cup. She wasn't sure she wanted him here. His presence unnerved her. Even now, the urgency in his eyes bespoke of the volatility of his nature. Would she meet the beast in him tonight? She turned the cup over in her hands roughly, nervously.
"Be careful with it," he urged.
She looked at him and said, "It's a…it's a cup."
He nodded eagerly, thinking she understood. "Yeah," he murmured.
There was nothing remarkable about it. It was utterly forgettable save for the little chip on the rim. Who would want a broken piece of china? There was something significant he wanted her to remember about it, but how could she? Why was it important?
"It's damaged," she tried.
He was not satisfied with her answer. He commanded in a rough whisper, "Just, look at it. Focus." His grip tightened on the brass handle of his cane.
She cast her eyes down and tried to concentrate, but he interrupted her. "It's your talisman," he said.
She looked up incredulously. Why did he want her to believe? If magic was real, then it meant she was a monster and so was he. What joy could he derive from that?
"It's a cup," she stated with more confidence. Just a cup, she told herself, trying to clear away the hazy mist blurring fantasy and reality.
"You dropped it in my castle," he confessed. "You were afraid that you had angered me," he continued with a smile. It was a pleasant memory, but it was his, not hers.
However, a dark cloud passed over her face as he mentioned the castle. When she first arrived at the hospital, she raved about the man who had touched her arm and healed her with magic. The nurses had exchanged worried glances then told her repeatedly there was no such thing before injecting her with enough drugs to knock her out for hours. For that reason, she had not spoken of her dreams. How did he know about the castle, unless it existed? If it was real, if someone else had seen it, then everything in her dreams was real. She looked at the cup and wondered what else had crossed over from that world. Her alarm rose exponentially. No matter who he was, he was dangerous.
She shook her head violently, "Okay, here. You… You need to go, and take your cup, okay?"
He immediately declined, pressing the cup back into her hands. Desperation was taking control of him, cracking his composed veneer, threatening to unleash whatever he kept hidden within. "No, no, no, no. I charmed it. If you focus it will work. It's magic."He wasn't listening to her.
"Okay, just go away!" she cried.
Why did he need it to be real? Did he think they could run off and live together in whatever Hell he was the master of?
"Stop talking about magic and take your cup!" She pushed the china back into his hands, but he refused to take it.
"Just look at it!" he urged.
Overcome by frustration, she flung the delicate white cup against the far wall of her room. It shattered into at least a dozen pieces with a satisfying crash. She looked up and watched his face fall as he counted every shard. His mouth hung open, and his lip quivered. She had broken more than just his cup. She had destroyed his spirit. Would she suffer the monster's wrath?
"Just go," she pleaded. "Just go away." She began to weep.
His mouth stretched into a sad smile. If there was evil inside him, it did not show itself behind the tears welling in his eyes. He nodded.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
With some effort, he stepped away from her bedside. As he passed by, he briefly paused to take one last look at the ruined shards before stepping through the door, forgetting to shut it behind him.
She let the tears wash down her cheeks as she stared at the broken bits of china. She tried to make sense of it all. She made a list of what was real and what was a dream. It was too complicated. In the end, she decided she knew just two things for certain: She had forgotten everything and this man desperately wanted her to remember.
So, perhaps they shared the same dream. She breathed out with a harsh little laugh. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and slipped out of her hospital bed. Her legs were weak and shaky, so she held onto the bed for support. Her pale yellow hospital gown was thin and offered little warmth. She shivered; however, she sat down on the tiles and one by one examined the pieces of the cup. The fragments fit in her cupped hands. If magic could cure her, then maybe she needed to believe more than she wanted to admit. She focused on the shards, but nothing happened. Whatever charm had been cast was broken, but maybe it could be mended. Setting the lot down, she made a neat little pile on the floor. In the process, however, she accidentally sliced her index finger.
Although the cut was minimal, she cried out in pain. A nurse, who had been walking by, stuck her head in the room and gasped when she saw her patient sprawled on the floor surrounded by sharp edges. Her stern features hardened, and she pressed her lips in a thin line as she marched in. A nametag pinned to her crisp white uniform read "Mildred." The nurse grabbed the girl's arm forcefully and pulled her up onto her feet.
Nurse Mildred's voice dripped with honey as she chided, "Now, really dear, what you were thinking getting out of bed like that?"
"I wanted the cup," she said, pointing at the mess on the floor.
"I'll have one of the orderlies bring you something to drink. You get into bed." The nurse pushed her back down against the pillows firmly. When she tried to sit up, the nurse held her down with one hand. Mildred was stronger than she appeared. The nurse frowned and pressed the call button.
Through the static, a voice called, "Can I help you, Miss French?" She wondered if French was the nurse's last name.
The nurse pursed her lips and cast a disapproving glance at her patient. "Jill, this is Mildred. Can I get a janitor in Room 201?" She glared at the girl, "We've had an accident."
"I'll send him up," the voice crackled through the static.
Mildred inspected the cut. She shook her head and clucked her tongue.
"Mmhmm, see what you've done to yourself? You're lucky you don't need stitches."
The nurse pulled out a simple first aid kit from one of the medical drawers. She roughly disinfected the wound, slathered on some antibacterial ointment, and wrapped it tightly with a bandage. When she was finished she picked a piece of fuzz off her pristine white scrubs.
The janitor, a big fellow with long black hair and a deep tan complexion, pushed his cleaning cart into the room. Nurse Mildred gave him a few curt directions and pointed in the direction of the broken china. His morose, expressionless face did not react to her abruptness. Although he did not speak, his black eyes took in everything as he bent down to clear the mess.
The girl sat up in the hospital bed and cried, "No, please! Could I just have the cup back?"
Nurse Mildred shook her head, "I'm afraid that's out of the question. We wouldn't want to see you hurt yourself again." Her voice was commanding and free of any kind of concern for the girl's well-being.
The girl panicked as she watched the janitor, as tall as he was broad, silently sweep up the pieces. She began to gesture wildly and tried to get out of the bed to stop him. She cried frantically, "I know it's broken, but it was an accident, and I didn't mean it. I just want it back for a few minutes. I think I can fix it. Please, can I just try?"
The nurse pressed the call button again and asked for immediate assistance. Two orderlies, strong men, rushed into the room and held her arms and legs as Nurse Mildred strapped her down.
"I don't understand," she called. "It's just a cup. Can't I have it back? I can fix it. I know I can!"
Mildred narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. She shook her head, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to inform Dr. Whale of your behavior tonight. He won't be pleased to discover that you tried to injure yourself. So, no, you cannot have the cup."
She looked at Mildred's frowning face and said, "Injure myself? I mean, I did, but not on purpose. I just want the cup back, please. It's going to help me remember." She looked into the eyes of the somber janitor whose towering frame lingered in the doorway. His dustpan was full of her shattered hope. "Please," she begged.
He broke her gaze, turned, and dumped the lot into a black garbage bag. He pushed the cart out of the room without a sound. She leaned back against the pillow. Nurse Mildred stuck something in her arm and suddenly she felt woozy.
"I just want to remember," she mumbled as the sedative began to take effect.
A/N: What do you think so far? Please, review!