Chapter Four: Rumplestiltzkin

When I woke up the next day, there was a lady at my bedside with a clipboard and pencil, making notes.

I jumped about a foot in the air. Being watched while you sleep is creepy, particularly when nobody tells you to expect it when you wake up.

The lady had brown hair titled up into a bun and was wearing glasses. She raised an eyebrow at my reaction to her presence, but just said, "Hello, dear" and continued writing.

I blinked confusedly.

With a shrug, I stared at the ceiling, thinking about how long I'd been stuck in a hospital bed. It was probably only a few days, but the time seemed to drag on like years – and it was with that thought that I ran a hand through my hair, and my nails got tangled in it.

Pulling a face, I unwrapped my fingers from my hair and went, "Can I lend a mirror?" At this, she looked far too calculating, so I added a "please?" to the end of it.

"I don't know if that would be a good idea, dear."

"What?" I snapped. "Why? I want to check my hair. God, I knew it was bad – and now you're looking at me like I'm Frankenstein's monster! Do I really look that bad?" Oh God, I really hoped nobody had seen me like this.

She reluctantly got a compact mirror out of her pocket, but refused to let me hold it. So I had to deal with a lady anxiously holding this mirror as if I couldn't do it myself. It was really embarrassing – and annoying. But hey, it gave me two hands free to sort out my hair – that, I guess, helped.

"So," she said conversationally, "what can you remember about the accident?"

I suddenly got an uncomfortable feeling that she was the psychiatrist I had promised myself, and squirmed away. This was a bad idea, because I could tell from looking at her face that it would be going down on the clipboard when she had both hands free to write it.

"Um, it was weird, there was this g…" My mouth snapped shut in an eerily familiar gesture, but I couldn't remember why it seemed so familiar. Oh well, the woman didn't really need to know. She could mind her own damn business. She was still looking at me weirdly though, as if sensing there was more to me shutting up than I let on.

"So… can I hold the mirror now?"

She gave it to me, studying my face intently. "You were find… near the beach," she said softly. "Do you remember how you got there?"

At the same time, I saw murky blue depths of sea, feeling like I was going to suffocate, freezing in the cold, choking, coughing, spluttering on salty water that made my eyes sting… and in that same second it was gone, and a lancing white-hot pain tore through my forehead, making me ball my fists up.

Feeling a sharp pain in my palm, I instinctively dropped what was in it – the mirror. It seemed to have shattered and some of my blood had caught on it, I noticed. I never thought or mirrors being so sharp – or so dangerous.

Whatever. It looked like I'd made a right mess, and I didn't really understand what had happened. I forced myself to pick up the glass, staring oddly at the shattered reflections, dozens of little me's reflecting all over the place and then being practically torn in two.

I twitched my hands reflexively, and then there was a hand over my shoulder, steering me away and forcing me to lie down. I considered fighting the grip, but was too dazed. What had I just seen?

The lady tried to interrogate me again, but I barely heard her questions, just acknowledged that she was speaking. She seemed to give up, gave me a concerned look and left the room.

I stared at the whitewashed ceiling once more.

That's one thing about hospitals: there's forever room to think, but sometimes you seem to be one doomed to think there forever.

Being in a hospital really is boring, especially when you have no visitors.

Yeah. You got that right.

I sure wasn't popular, was I?

I mean, even ONE visitor would be nice, but nooo, I have to stay here, trying to think who the hell Alicia is. And I have no leads.

Although, that lady hasn't been in recently either. I have a horrible feeling that she's banned visitors from seeing me entirely – after all, I'm a fellow inmate – oh, wait, I mean patient, not that there's really a difference in my view – as a punishment for breaking her compact mirror.

I hope not. It wouldn't be my fault if she were stupidly attached to a mirror, anyway. I certainly wouldn't take the blame for it.

The thing is, I've not even had a spectral visitor here. In a way, I'm kind of glad that I didn't see that kid again; she was just annoying. 'Oh look; she can't remember anything! THAT IS SO FUNNY! Watch me hyperventilate then die as I laugh at your situation! BWAHAHA!' And then I'd be there shouting, 'hey! I remember some things!', and then she'd be all, 'you don't know ME, do you?' And I'd be silent, but thinking like, yeah, well, I certainly hope that I didn't know her.

I don't THINK I did, but you never know. Then again, why I'd be hanging around with a ghost is beyond me.

It kind of sucks that even Jesse didn't come and see me. I mean, seriously, he's MEANT to care, but he doesn't look like he does! But then, if visitors really have been banned, Jesse might not come. I mean, God forbid he break a rule. I swear, he's too… good, sometimes.

Still, even if what I fear has happened, that wouldn't extend to the undead variety now, would it? I mean, I'm pretty sure the ban only reached the living.

So, yeah, considering my total lack of visitors, I was jumping for joy when I got one. A visitor, I mean. Unfortunately, it was another person who I didn't know. Ugh, how annoying.

Still, maybe this meant visitors could come and see me – but just hadn't bothered. That thought felt even worse.

He strolled over to me with a superior air and smirked at me. Why do I get the impression that I have NEVER liked this guy?

"Hey, Suze."

I glowered at him. "Hello. Mind telling me who the Hell you are?"

He raised an eyebrow, and his smirk widened. "You don't remember me?"

"No," I replied, defeated.

Some expressions flashed across his face – concern, worry – and I suddenly remember something.

A guy. Smirking. Looking concerned, looking satisfied, me staring at him, him not trying to help, me falling, falling, falling…

Falling into oblivion.

With a jolt, I was back to the time. I stared at him, terrified.

"I know you," I whispered, horrified.

Why did it take me so long to see this was him? I'd been more fixated on the expression than the guy, but when I think about, this guy is identical. Scary….

"Really? I thought you just said you forgot me," he looked kind of confused. Couldn't really blame him, I do seem to change my mind about things, don't I?

"Yeah, well, you watched me get hurt. You just stood there, and SMIRKED. Having a good laugh, were you?"

He looked quite horrified, though I'm sure it was put on. "I wouldn't laugh at that," he said seriously. "You didn't want my help."

Ha! That's rich! So I'd said, 'yeah, if I look like I'm getting into some serious accident or slowly dying, please leave me alone. Better yet, stand around and watch, and then laugh about it with all your friends afterwards. You could say over a glass of beer, "yeah, I knew Susannah Simon, I watched her snuff it! Seriously, it was funny. You should have seen her face! And she was gaping like a fish, and screaming, 'I'm dying, I'm dying!'"?'

Okay, maybe not. I'm sure I'd never be THAT pathetic.

And I would NEVER scream 'I'm dying, I'm dying!' Just goes to show you what gossip can turn into, eh?

And until now, I thought girls were the queens of gossip…

Rather than saying all of this, I just stated, "Says the boy who's a psychopathic genius…"

"Hey! Where'd you hear that I was a psychopath?" His eyes bored into mine.

"It's obvious," I said airily, "Your confident smirks, that maniacal smile, not to mention that twinkle you get in your eye. Oh, and let's not forget how damn amused you looked when I got my memories knocked out of my head." See, I'd just about placed one of the looks. Amused. I've not worked out the confusion/satisfaction parallel yet, but he was definitely amused.

HELLO? What is amusing about an accident? It's NOT FUNNY!

He glowered at me, looking murderous. See! Psychopathic!

What's the definition of a psychopath, anyway?

So, anyway, this guy doesn't say anything, so I ask the all-important question. And no, it's not 'are you single?' Sure, the guy's hot, but his personality is like something out of, I don't know, 'The Ugly Duckling'. It goes without saying that this Ugly Duckling has a long way before becoming a beautiful swan…. Okay, that was a weird example.

"What's your name?"

Good question, isn't it? I mean, I hated him so much that I felt like I knew him. Which I probably had, but you get what I mean. Knowing his name might be nice.

And his age. And how we met… And, well, lots of other things that I'm dying to get my hands on. You can't blame me really.

He looked amused. "Bob." He's amused that he's telling me his name?

Oh, right.

"Haha, very funny," I scowled at him. "Really, what is it?"

"Rumpelstiltzkin."

Dude, mocking the amnesiac girl is so not funny. I start to get really mad at his underestimation of my intelligence. I mean, he thinks that I'd fall for RUMPELSTILTZKIN? Geez, I may have forgotten some things, but I'm not stupid.

…God. He thinks I'm a moron, doesn't he?

Not that I should care or anything, but you know how things go.

"Tell. Me. Your. Name." I hissed at him, giving him a glare that I hope yells out, answer or die. I really hoped that he wasn't going to say Rapunzel, next… I can't quite imagine someone climbing down his hair… or his being female, actually…

"Pe…"

All of a sudden, there was the flash of materialization next to me. My first thought was, 'psycho ghost girl's back again! Honestly, two psychos in the same room! Can my day get any worse?' Then, I realized that it was Jesse. You know, I was almost disappointed. After all, Jesse had been ignoring me, and, heck; I'd been waiting for a long time to practise my non-existent talents at telekinesis… After all, there's nothing like smashing a few vases on someone's head when they call you by the wrong name.

Great, now I'm the psychopath.

What is it with me and psychopaths today?

Jesse looked like he was going to say something, but then he happened to see the-hot-guy-who-should-be-burned-to-death. His eyes narrowed. Hey, he looked more hateful than me! Maybe he's a psycho- Okay, okay, I've got to get that out of my head now… I've got dismiss that word from my vocabulary, or something…

"Slater!" he thundered, and stepped forward threateningly. I grinned. Now I wasn't the only who looked like I had someone trying to off me…

Author's Notes: Well, this is the most heavily edited chapter. The first section is completely new, and the second just has some additions. The writing style change is easy to explain because, as I mentioned last chapter, I changed a lot. I left the writing style like that to keep in humour, and as a nod to an old style. You should be going back to your regularly-scheduled not-completely-insane writing style next chapter though. Yay. Also, I have the plot together. Double yay! Very different from the books, though... be warned!

Next chapter may take longer as it's being written completely from scratch and I have a GCSE IT exam on Friday. Wish me luck!

And don't forget, I love your reviews, so please leave one. :)