SCREECHHH! Was all I remember hearing before glass shattered all over me. In a haste to end the flashing nightmare I opened my eyes. A white room? Oxygen mask? Am I in a hospital room? Suddenly, pain surged through my head, a million things running through my mind. At that moment, all I felt was pain- pain from the bruises covering my arms, pain from the wires I was entangled in and PAIN from not being able to understand where I was and who I am…...
Amidst the battle with myself, I noticed a red button on my bedside, probably a HELP button and without thinking, I pressed it with my bruised hand. Within a moment or two the front door burst open followed by the entry of three women, who I'm guessing were nurses. One curly haired short Latina looked vaguely familiar.
From the corner of my eye, I could see their widened eyes and confusion-struck face before the Latina decided to break the ice, "Ally?! Oh my God! You are alive!" I simply blinked. Ally? That must be my name. And what does she mean by alive! Was I going to die?
Several questions swirled through my head, before I decided to signal her to get that dreadful mask off my face. She immediately complied. "Who are you? Where am I? And most importantly who am I?" I spoke through my sore throat.
"Wait, Ally, don't you remember me? Do you remember anything at all?"she asked and I shook my head vigorously as tears flowed across my face. I cried and cried till I felt warm hands pull me into an embrace, which I gladly accepted.
"Don't worry. We will figure this out, dear. Let me talk to the doctor first." With that she left, leaving behind a very broken version of myself, who could barely sit up.I could only close my eyes and that's what I did.
All I could see was a faint light in the darkness, then the sight of a truck and then came an ear-piercing scream from the back of my throat as I woke up from the dreadful memory.
MEMORIES - they are claimed to be something that a person can rely on no matter what; something someone can hold on to even when they are dying. But being alive and wiped clean of a major portion of them is worse than your worst nightmare. I looked at the accent wall as I felt wetness on my cheeks. What is happening to me? Why can't I remember anything?
I stiffly stared at the ceiling waiting for some kind of explanation. After a few minutes, which to me felt like hours, the door creaked open and in came the Latina, accompanied by a doctor.
"Hello dear, I am Dr. Aaron," she started smiling. I nodded, devoid of any emotion while still staring at the ceiling.
"This is Patricia De La Rosa. She knows you. Actually, you both were highschool besties," she continued. This caught my attention. I shifted my gaze to the curly haired girl. She smiled sympathetically and slightly waved.
"Ally, listen to me," she started, "I know you find all of this terrifying. You are probably having nightmares of that truck that hit you and- "
"How do you know that?" I cut her off terrified, as I backed away towards the wall. "It is because I know you. I've known you for about twenty years and your accident was like a blow to our heads." "Accident? What accident?" I questioned, feeling a little at ease with the familiar girl. The two women exchanged glances, like they were communicating with their eyes. Soon, the doctor left the room, leaving behind my supposed- friend.
"Let's clean you up," she said. She helped me up the bed to the bathroom to freshen up. After all, I had forgotten what a good warm shower felt like. Staring at the mirror, I noticed the petite brunette, staring back at me. Her eyes were hazel and her skin was very pale- a rare shade of porcelain. I noticed a cut on my forehead covered with a bandaid and one on my chin. Only once I stepped into the water cubicle, did I realize the number of scars on my body. There was a huge gash on my shoulder, extending across my chest. My body was covered with wounds of various sizes, most of which had been healed. The most significant injuries seemed to be the faded scars on my upper arms.
That must have been from the shattered glass, I guess. The accident seemed to have done a real number on me. It seems to be a miracle that I survived. This thought brought me back to another bugging question. Since my injuries don't hurt much, I wondered how long the accident left me bed-ridden. My thoughts were scattered everywhere and I took the time in the shower to gather them all. I was certain that such a terrible accident would have left me in a coma, but for how long? Probably a month or two? I quickly got dressed, determined to clear this whirlwind of doubts swirling through my head.
As I stepped into the room, I saw Patricia waiting for me on the bed with food, "Hello Ms. De La Rosa," I politely greeted. "Forget the formality, girl, we are long lost friends, actually we are like sisters," she smiled before hugging me tightly. My hands remained glued to my side as I shifted slightly. Noticing my discomfort, she awkwardly pulled away.
"Brooklyn thinks that it is best if we reconnected again. After all we were- no- are best friends." She looked at me with such compassion that I almost believed her. I nodded, waiting for her to continue.
Handing me food and water she started, "OK, now ask away what you want to know about yourself," she smiled.
I croaked, "What is my name? How old am I? I am so full of questions right now. Just summarize my life in about 50 to 100 words."
She laughed, "Three years in coma, lost all her memories, but is still the same old Ally."
I stiffened. Three Years? I spent three years here? She immediately stopped, realizing what she had said.
Pulling me into another tight hug, she whispered in my ear, "I am so sorry, girl. I didn't mean for it to come out this way. I must have sounded like a jerk," she apologized.
I wrapped my hand around her and sighed, "I need time to get used to things, but I will need your help."
"I will always be there, girl, right by your side," she said.
I felt a pang in my heart and very spontaneously I replied, "I know, Trish, thanks."
She let me go and stared at me as if I had grown another head. "Did you just remember something or was it just in the heat of the moment? "
I looked at her confused for a second, then came a surging pain in my head, followed by flashes.
"Trish, will we ever meet again?" I cried, "New York is too far and I will miss you really bad."
"Ally, don't cry," replied the Latina, who looked like she was in her early twenties, "We will always be besties and for the record I will miss you too!"
"But how will we keep contact?" a very melodramatic me asked, "What if I forget about you? What if we don't see each other for years? What if I get lonely and you hate-"
"Quit the drama, girl," Patricia smiled through her tears, "I could never hate you, even if I tried; Besides you have Austin," she nudged me in my ribs.
I laughed, "Why are we besties again?" I asked sarcastically.
"Because, you know I will always be there, girl, right by your side," she replied.
"I know, Trish,thanks," I replied gratefully before I hugged her tightly, not wanting to let her go.
The pain soon subsided and in front of me stood a wide-eyed Patricia. "I..I think I remembered something," I said grinning widely, "We were besties after all, before I left for New York."
She smiled, "So, I am guessing you remembered our last melodramatic meeting before you left for New York?"
I nodded flabbergasted at how she could read me like a book.
As if reading my thoughts, "I could always read you well, that is why you kept me beside you," she joked.
The door opened slightly, "Pat, you called?" Dr. Aaron was at the door.
"Yes Brooke," she answered, "She is beginning to recall things."
The doctor looked shocked, "How can she remember this fast? It has only been four hours, since she woke up!"
"I'm surprised too!" Patricia reasoned, "It usually takes a person weeks to regain lost memories for Retrograde Amnesia."
This was followed by silence, but I could see the wheels in the doctor's head turning.
"She was extremely lucky to survive the accident," Dr. Aaron continued, "What makes her survival miraculous is the minimal brain damage, with which she escaped!"
"I know," Patricia agreed, "but what are you implying?"
"What I'm saying is, her case is not neurological."
Patricia looked confused for a second, before catching on, "Oh! She is going through Dissociative Amnesia!"
Dr. Aaron smiled, "Bingo! And you know what that means?"
"That means she has a higher chance of recalling things. Basically, she will be back to normal soon," Patricia grinned widely before looking at me.
I was aware of the entire conversation. Though I wasn't a doctor, Amnesia and its types was something I seem to know. And the idea of knowing who I am, gave me a sense of security. Soon Dr. Aaron left, leaving behind an excited Patricia.
"Now about your autobiography-"she started.
"Biography," I corrected.
"God! Give me a break, I'm a nurse, not an English professor. You haven't changed one damn bit," she rolled her eyes in annoyance.
I opened my mouth to remind her not to curse, but she beat me to it, "I don't need another lecture on how not to curse in a hospital," she smiled while I nodded still shocked at her abruptness.
"OK, now no more interruptions," she started, "You were Allyson Edgar Dawson and-"
"Wait, were?"
"Girl, let me complete the story. So you are twenty eight years old; Born on 28th of October at 12:24 am-"
"Woah! Too many details"
"I believe in precision, now would you quit interrupting?" she waited for a few minutes then continued, "So your parents were Lester and Penny Dawson. Now before you ask, your mother died, giving birth to you and your father passed away last year," she paused, realizing how insensitive she sounded and opened her mouth to apologize but I cut her off, "I see that you are still the same straightforward girl. No need to apologize, I don't remember them, at the moment so you are good to go."
She smiled sweetly before continuing, "Brooklyn told me not to tell you everything, but here are a few things she allowed me to tell you: One is that we were from Miami, Florida; Second was that you had a passion for writing novels, stories,poems, pretty much anything and to fulfill your dream of becoming an author, just like your mother, you moved to New York with - Nevermind,"
"Austin?" I asked.
She looked at me like she had seen a ghost, "How did you-"
"I saw a flash of our last day in the airport, remember?" I asked.
"Oh! Don't pull your 'Remember' jokes on me, girl!" she exclaimed. I could see that she was tactfully trying to change the topic, but I was adamant so I pushed on.
"Anyways, was he my crush or something?" I asked hoping she would crack. But, within the sixty minutes I spent with her I realized that she had experience with memory-loss patients. She made them feel comfortable and gave away a little bit of their biodata to them, hoping they would recall the rest on their own. In my case,she could connect a little more as she knew me better.
She smiled apologetically, "I can't tell you everything, dear. It is just how things should be. But since you could remember me so fast, I bet you would never forget someone like Austin Moon," she patted my back encouragingly.
"Austin Moon" that name seems to echo in my head like a trigger. "Moon," I thought and there came the pain again. I clutched my head in agony. This time the pain seemed worse than before.
I was walking down an exceptionally long corridor, my eyes downcast. It was the 10th of September, my brother's birthday. I was thinking about him when, suddenly out of nowhere, I was shoved into a locker. My glasses fell off. "Hey Glasses! Stay out of the way," a blonde boy yelled. It was the first day of school and ever since my thirteenth birthday I have been trying to ditch my glasses, but dad never agreed. "Don't call me that," I grumbled as my shoulder throbbed in pain. "What did you say? Can't hear you, freak!" he commented as he cupped his ears, pretending to catch my voice. This angered me. Though I lacked confidence, I never backed down from a conversation, especially when I was humiliated. One thing anyone should know about me is that when I get angry, I'm not going to be easy. Because anger drives away the nervous, stuttering and awkward Ally, leaving behind a ruthless, fearless and sarcastic girl.
Shoving my journal into my locker,I smirked, "Well, if you didn't hear me loud and clear, why did you listen to my command to stop calling me that name?"
He was taken aback by my new-found confidence. "Well, well, looks like Glasses here has found her confidence."
"Oh please! You Mr. I'm-so-Popular need to find a new victim to torment. You won't get to me that easily," I huffed, crossing my arms across my chest and raising my eyebrows in anger. My glasses still lay on the floor, untouched, unscathed. All I could make out from his face was his brown eyes. The rest of him was blurry.
"I can't or can I," he smirked evilly, while producing a can of fruit juice from his pocket.
"Oh right! Here comes the fruit rain. Pour it over and get this over with; cause I ain't afraid," I stood maintaining eye contact.
This time, he was clearly surprised. What he must've expected was a poor, helpless and innocent girl, begging for defeat! That self-absorbed and snobbish look on his face fuelled my irritation, supported by my lack of sleep and loneliness.
He knew he couldn't win this, so he decided to go through with his initial plan. "You asked for it," he commented, as he emptied the contents of the can onto my head, pouring down to my dress.
I looked at his white shirt for a moment before contemplating a plan, "Oh no!" I screeched, "Why did you do this to me?" I tried to be dramatic. He raised his arms in defence, "Hey! You told me to do it," he shrugged.
I smirked. He was too late to catch that smirk as I threw my arms around him and rubbed the gooey liquid over him.
This was something he never expected because this time he was emotionless; no comment, no smirk, no names, just a blank stare.
"I need to take a bath, now you do too," I chuckled dryly, before turning to the bathroom. I could hear laughter, echoing through the hallway. I did put up a tough exterior but I was terrified. He tried to embarrass me and I gave him a taste of his own medicine.
My thoughts were interrupted when a very familiar Latina walked in, "Girl, that was awesome! You sure showed him who's boss."
I looked at her and let my long awaited tears fall, "I didn't want to look superior. I just wanted to get back at him. Mom would be so disappointed in me."
Trish looked at me for a second, "Ally, you reacting to things this way is just a defence mechanism. Just like how he tried to make you feel helpless. He deserved it anyways," she comforted.
"No one deserves to be put down; not me, not him. Do you think I should apologize?" I asked.
Her eyes wandered as if trying to contemplate whether to whack me in my head or slap me across my chest, "Are you crazy? Last year he made a boy cry so hard that he fainted. It is the first time somebody stood up to him. You can't back away now!"
"But, he is human, right? What if he is forced into this? Remember I told you how my brother succumbed to peer pressure? I just don't think what I did was right," I defended.
"Whatever you do, don't apologize. It will be a boost to his ego and he will think you are weak and submissive," she warned.
"Trish, thank you for being here," I smiled, "But, what I did was against my morals. I was too out of line, so I will apologize, because that girl there, was using defence as her fight mode, but this girl, the one who will look weak, would have her attack mode on."
She remained silent, then nodded understandingly, "Fine, girl, kill 'em with kindness!" I laughed at her comment.
All of a sudden, my head was filled with flashes. One of a me apologizing, one of him and his posse laughing, one of me in tears and a few more.
Then all of it stopped, the pain, the flashes. I was sitting in my bed with my head in my hands and Patricia observing my actions, "That jerk!" I grumbled angrily.
This snapped Patricia out of her trance, "You saw him, didnt you? "
I nodded, "Not clearly though, I could only see his eyes."
She started laughing hysterically, "You always used to tell him 'No matter what happens, I would never forget your chocolate brown eyes'" she mimicked my voice.
I was beyond confused, "Why would I say that? And why would I choose to go to New York with him? " I started hyperventilating.
Patricia took my hand in hers and replied, "You don't know the full story yet, Ally. Don't go on full hate mode now. OK, calm down and tell me everything you discovered."
I thought for a moment then relaxed, "One, that I was a nerd and had glasses, he called me Freak, I let my frustration get the best of me and publicly shamed him. Then, I cried in regret, you calmed me down as always, I apologized to him, he laughed it off, he made me cry, he told everyone about my only secret- my brother!" my voice raising significantly towards the end.
Trish looked at me, "Calm down, Ally!" she comforted me.
I closed my eyes and tried to get a hold of my fury, "Why didn't you tell me about my brother?"
"I wanted you to remember him yourself. You didn't see him for a major portion of your life so I wanted to see if you could recall," she replied.
I nodded mechanically, "I figured that he was prey to peer pressure and did something stupid. I don't know what though."
Then the room was filled with silence, "Wait! Did I have a diary or something?"
"Ah yes!" Trish replied and walked to the end table pulling out a yellow book, "You were never a diary sort of girl. You called it a journal," she said, handing it to me, "I don't know much about it, but you used to tell me that to protect it from prying eyes, you would turn your feelings into story plots or poems."
"That makes sense," I smiled. "Only you can make sense out of that," she commented, to which I chuckled.
"I will explore this tomorrow. By the way, what is the date today? And where will I stay," I asked.
She beamed, "Today's the 14th of October, 2018, two weeks before you turn 29. For now, you will stay here in the hospital, you are in New York, if you didn't realize."
I nodded, yawning.
"You've had a long day! Sleep tight, Ally. I will be back tomorrow morning," she waved one last time before walking out.
Tomorrow is going to be a long day, I thought before I drifted off to welcome the much awaited slumber.