There was bright light and pain when he awoke. Mostly pain, though. He took a look around the room. It was pure light with many different noises but at the same time it was quiet. He could tell he was in a room, but where was this room? He could hear footsteps walk past in the hallway. He heard a pair stop for a moment. He looked over to the door to a see a young man in a white coat who smiled at him before walking away. This confused him. Where was he?

Better yet, who was he?

He couldn't remember a thing aside from the fact he was in a lot of pain. He sat himself up carefully and looked around. He heard foot steps again and another man, who was much older then the one before, walked in.

"Ah, Mr. Logans, I see you've finally woken up. We were worried about you; we thought you might slip into a coma." The man said with a chuckle.

Mr. Logans? He supposed that was his name. Though, it sounded strange to his ears, like it wasn't exactly the right name. He sighed at the thought though. He had now deciphered he was in a hospital, at least he hoped he was, and that this was probably his doctor, so he most likely wasn't calling him by a false name.

The doctor went and got a clipboard, looking it over. "You were in a car accident, Mr. Logan, do you remember? You hit your head pretty hard when you flew out of your car. You're very lucky to be alive, actually, it seems you weren't wearing your seat belt and went straight through your windshield."

Mr. Logans stared at the doctor for a moment, not really sure how to respond. He looked around again, blinking when he noticed he had hair in his face. He moved the messy blue locks from his face before speaking.

"…I…I don't remember…any of that, doctor…I'm sorry, but I didn't catch you name." He said in a quiet tone, his pure blue eyes looking at the doctor.

The doctor made a thoughtful noise, nodding to himself. "I was afraid of this." He mumbled, writing something down on his clipboard "You may have temporary amnesia. But don't fret; I'm certain it won't last long. I'm going to ask you a few simple questions to see how far your memory has gone. First, what's your name? By the way, my name is Dr. Oblitus."

Amnesia? Well, that seemed like a good assumption. He couldn't remember a thing. He looked at the doctor, sighing. "Dr. Oblitus, I don't remember anything. I don't even remember a car crash. Who am I? Where am I? I can assume that my surname is Logans and I'm in a hospital, but what hospital? And what's my full name? I very confused." He said in a calm yet frightened tone, as though he were a small child who had just lost its parent in the mall.

Dr. Oblitus sighed, writing something else on his clipboard before looking at Mr. Logan again. "You're name is Howard J. Logans. You're in Castelia City Hospital; you were brought here eight days ago after a collision with a motor cyclist and a truck. You're twenty three years old and you currently are living in an apartment with your girlfriend. She's been worried sick about you, coming in every day."

Howard, as he now knew his name was even though it's sounded wrong, just stared at the doctor. None of this sounded right to him, it all sounded like some story. Though he was sure the doctor was telling him the truth, it all didn't sound right. But, he brushed it all off, figuring it was just his amnesia. He took another quick look around before sighing, and trying to think. He was in a car crash, okay. Dr. Oblitus said three others were in the crash. Had he been with someone? He slightly recalled another person, but he may have been mistaken. He looked to his doctor, deciding to ask the questions that chewed so furiously at his brain. "Was there anyone with me? Was anyone else hurt? Did I cause the crash?"

Dr. Oblitus shook his head. "No, no one was with you. From what we can assume, you in the middle of an intersection and a speeding cyclist who had lost control of his vehicle had rammed into your car. In your daze, you stopped and a truck rear ended you at full speed, causing you to be flung through the windshield. It's amazing how you came out with barely any scratches and no broken bones." He said before sighing mournfully. "Sadly, though, one person was killed in the collision. He was on the motorcycle with its driver and fell off and hit his head. Don't blame this on yourself, though, it's not your fault in the slightest."

He said this in the most reassuring tone he could, but Howard felt his heart sink at the thought. The poor man, he couldn't help but think that it was his fault that this poor fellow had his life taken from him, even though Dr. Oblitus has stated otherwise. He was probably right too, but it still didn't make the now guilty feeling go away.

After twenty minutes of a long discussion, Dr. Oblitus left Howard to his own devices. Howard mostly just stared at the ceiling for an hour until a young, slightly attractive to his eyes, woman entered the room. She had light brown hair and deep, muddy brown eyes to match. She went over to Howard, taking up a chair and smiling at him.

"Howie, I'm so happy you're awake." She said in a gleeful tone. "Dr. Oblitus told me that you can come home tomorrow with me, aren't you excited?"

Howard simply blinked at her, confused by who this woman could be. "…I'm…I'm sorry, miss, but do I know you?"

The young woman blinked a few times before giggling obnoxiously, which made Howard give her a look. "Oh, I forgot that you have amnesia. Howie, it's me. It's Anna, remember? I'm your girlfriend. We've been living together for the past month." She said a happy tone as she patted down the wrinkles her purple shirt with was covered in a Purrloin's paw print pattern.

Howard just continued to stare though. He was pretty sure he didn't know this girl, though not certain of course. He felt like he may have seen her before, but didn't exactly know her. But, again, he shrugged it off before nodding to the girl. "I'm sorry, but I don't recall ever coming in contact with you. But, I'll trust you're telling me the truth, Anna." He said with a soft smile.

Anna smiled backed, leaning over and kissing Howard on the lips gently before looking him over. "…Oh, Howie, you're hair's all messed up." He said, running her hand through his matted blue hair. "…You know we were going to take you to get a hair cut after your job interview…" She said, and even though Howard didn't pick up on it, she seemed to be taking a small advantage of the fact he couldn't remember. "Tomorrow, before I take you home, we're getting you to the barber's shop, alright?" She said with a giggle. Howard nodded.

Home. Home sounded nice.

He began to image what home was like as she began talking to him about their life together. He imagined it, even though he had been told it was an apartment, he could only imagine a two story house. He lived in the upper floor while there was a small business underneath. It sounded like people were always there, and it always smelled of good food and sweets.

It also smelled like someone was setting fire to something.

Chili sat quietly on Cress' bed, Cress' Panpour lying sadly on his lap. It had been a day since the buried Cress and it had been hard on them both. Chili blamed himself to no end about the older triplets' death; it hurt a lot to think about Cress now.

Chili couldn't bring himself back down into the gym, he couldn't imagine it what so ever. Not without Cress there. He knew he was making this hard on Cilan by not being down there, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was sit in this room and stare at Cress' vanity mirror, stare at his reflection.

Hate his reflection.

How could he have been so stupid? Why did he have to speed? Better yet, why had he not had a helmet? He should have listened to his brother's warning and bought one after the last time he trashed his motorcycle. But no, he didn't.

And now Cress was dead.

How could he ever forgive himself? He murdered Cress! Though Cilan and the doctor had told him otherwise after his breakdown at the funeral, he knew it was his fault. He shouldn't have sped; he should have had a helmet. He should have not tried to race the fucking red light, Cress would be alive! Cress would be home and yelling at him for not getting his lazy ass up and downstairs in front of stove.

It was his fault.

It was his fault.

He murdered Cress.