—I died. It's the first thought in my head when I wake up. Flashes from last night dance in behind my eyes. The face of an angel, the cold cutting through my skin, her face close to mine. Everything felt too good to be true. —No, I'm not dead. Not yet.
The white light blinds me for a moment until my eyes adjust. I can see soft floating white silk curtains above my head. The extra weight on my hand calls my attention. I lift my arm and see a transparent tube coming out of white tape stuck to it. The tube keeps going until it connects to an IV bag on the left side of the bed. My head feels heavy, and I blink slowly, looking around until I finally notice her. When our eyes meet, she smiles sweetly at me, and I can't breathe.
—Feeling better? She asks.
Her voice sounds gentle, but I still jump to the sound, sitting straight up on the bed. My head spins violently and makes me feel sick.
I look at her again, but I can't make a sound. The pale moonlight made no justice to how beautiful she is. Her brown wavy hair falls perfectly on her shoulders. Her hazel eyes, which made me feel weak at my knees, look even shinier in this light, and I can feel my mind going crazy with questions.
—Are you in pain? She asks, looking worried.
Just being there with her so close to me seems to make me forget how to move. I can't understand her effect on me. Could it be the fact that she saved me from death? Or maybe the way she looks, almost like she couldn't be human?
Without taking my eyes off of her, I shake my head slightly, forcing myself to say something.
—No. I answer quietly, ignoring the pain in my head. She is talking to me, and I can't concentrate on anything but that. She's real, and she's right next to me.
A large smile appears on her lips. —That's great. I was worried when you came up to the house yesterday. What's your name? What happened to you?
It takes me a few seconds to move my attention from the glow she seemed to irradiate to the first question. My name? The words float in my mind for a moment. Well, my name… my name is…. I look everywhere in my mind, but I can't complete the phrase. I feel a cold chill down my spine as I realize I have no idea what my name is.
—I… don't know. I keep my head down as the pounding gets heavier and more painful. That should be the most straightforward question to answer in the whole world. The word that I have heard since the day I was born. The word brings the image of who I am to people's minds when they listen to it.
Yesterday I was so sacred that I only thought about not dying, so I didn't pay enough attention to the fact that I had no idea how I got there. Why didn't I question that more? I search my mind looking for any memories from before I woke up in that forest, anything that could help me remember my name or why I was there in the first place, but my mind feels like a blank wall. Anything before I opened my eyes in that forest simply does not exist.
I raise my eyes to her, shaking my head. She can see the fear in my eyes, and the smile turns into a serious face as she doesn't seem to know what to do.
—Keep calm. She says, holding my hands; her fingers feel cold to the touch. —It will be all right. You've been through a lot; if you rest a little more, you'll remember.
She touches my shoulders softly and puts me to bed again. My head still pounds, and I can't concentrate on anything but the rhythmic pumping of the blood through my veins. My body falls unconscious, and surrendering to the pain, I fall into a deep sleep.
I have no idea how long I slept, but when I wake up, the pain is bearable. I open my eyes, waiting to be blinded by the light again, but the room is almost dark.
My eyes get used to the darkness, and I notice the blue hue of the light in the room. It's spacious and simple with white naked walls except for a painting of a few lines crossing one another, forming shapes inside them. I'm alone. On my left, a few steps away, a big window with a sofa big enough for two people under it—the perfect place to appreciate the view or read a book.
A large closet with white doors covers most of the right wall, and a small oval white figure floats silently in the dark, the word "ready" written in green over its head. The bed is the most extravagant thing about that room—the curtains coming down the sides, like a princess bed from a doll's toy house. The small watch on the side of the bed reads three a.m. I look closer at the date. November. No wonder it was freezing cold outside. The clock shows 41 degrees out in the woods but a comfortable 75 degrees inside the room.
Here, in this soft light, I can gather my thoughts better. I still have no idea who I am, but I'm not feeling sick anymore, and the room stopped spinning. Alone, I close my eyes, trying to think more clearly.
I try to guess the reason why I can't remember. Maybe I hit my head or was in an accident? I search my body for sore spots or maybe bruises. I run my hands through my thighs and legs down to my feet. My body feels tired but not hurt, and there are no particular painful or abraded places as I touch my skin and run my fingers through my hair. When I touch my neck, I can feel the cold touch of the metal circle again.
The ring is attached to the rubber-like material of the clothes, and it's the same width as my neck, with a hole in the middle where the skin is exposed. It feels soft and in perfect condition—no scars or pain as I touch the rim of the ring.
How could I've lost my memory without a single scratch? I ran like crazy through those woods barefooted and half-naked, but there were no cuts on my body. I can feel my mind sinking into panic, so I breathe, trying to calm myself. Being alone makes it easier, and I can feel my heartbeat getting slower after each breath. The clock reads 5 a.m already. I look back at the window, looking for the sunlight, but the thick fog covering the air doesn't allow much of it to come through. The light seems trapped inside a dense gray prison.
When the clock shows the number seven, the door slides slowly. I can see her hair before she peeks through the opening and into the room. When our eyes meet, she turns the lights on and smiles brightly at me, making my heart dance inside my chest.
—Good morning! Did you sleep well? I didn't wake you up, did I? I was just wondering how you were doing. Her voice is sweet like before.
As she enters the room, a little oval figure, not much taller than her knees, comes inside with her carrying a large tray over its head, making the room smell like breakfast. The little robot stops by my bed as it unveils a large tray of food and two glasses, water and orange juice.
—I wasn't sure what you would like, so I prepared a bit of everything.
Who is she? My eyes go from her to the tray of food. Her smile is wide and warm, but I can't stop myself from wondering if all this is ok. Should I accept it? Is it ok to trust her?
My instincts tell me to beware of the stranger bearing gifts. She might look like an angel, but I don't know her. I can't trust someone so easily like that. I'm very aware of my thoughts, but my body chooses to ignore them. I feel myself being pulled in her direction like a magnet, so I try to find the middle ground, or at least that's the lie I tell myself. I have nowhere to go. I have to trust her. She's my only hope.
—Who are you? My voice sounds like a grunt, and my throat is like sandpaper. She gives me the cup of water, and I drink it as fast as possible. The refreshing feeling went down my throat and into my empty stomach. When I stop to catch my breath, she speaks to me.
—My name is Esme Cullen.
Her name floats in my head for a moment. It sounds unique to me, but it fits her perfectly.
—Where am I? The water woke me up, and I felt more alive and attentive.
—You're in Forks, in the state of Washington, dear.
I can picture Washington in my mind and associate the location with the weather outside, but knowing where I am doesn't make much difference as I have no idea if I'm far or near home.
—Do you remember something? Anything? I can see how anxious she is about the situation.
—No. I avoid her disappointed eyes and look down at my hands, pressing on my palms with my thumb, holding back the tears.
—Don't worry. She says, sitting on the bed, right in front of me with her hazel eyes staring right into mine. The cold touch of her hands as she holds mine feels somewhat comforting. —We'll figure this out. I'll help you.
She smells so good. Refreshing and sweet, like mint. I look down at her hands on mine, feeling my doubts melt away. My brain still tells me to be careful, but I can't help but want to be near her. Even if she were lying, right now, as the smell of her skin relaxes my body, I wouldn't be able to tell.
I nod my head slowly as I think of the best words to say. I want to thank her, to let her know how grateful I am she saved me, but I don't want to sound… weird. I don't understand how I feel about her right now, and I don't want to sound desperate or crazy. I just want to come across as grateful and, if possible, normal. I picture the words in my mind without forgetting how I need to deliver them. Thankful, not crazy, or dramatic. I notice the ring on her finger, and the words "Mrs. Cullen" come to my mind. Of course, she's married. She wouldn't be living in this enormous house by herself. I choose my words wisely and find the courage to say them.
—I'm grateful for your help Mrs. Cullen. I raise my eyes to meet hers as I analyze the effect the words have on her. I hope to see understanding in them, but she loosens her grip on my hands and looks at me slightly confused. Did I offend her? I'm worried that my words were too intense or sounded rude. She separated her lips like she was going to say something, but a knock on the door distracted us.
—Is she awake? The voice asked.
—Yes, Esme answers —You may come in, Alice.
Alice carefully slides the door and enters the room slowly, just like Esme. She peeks inside and smiles at me, her eyes are as bright hazel as Esme's, and her long black hair is tied up in a high ponytail with soft bangs over her forehead. She looks much young, but there's an air of maturity in her.
She seems more energetic than Esme like she is excited to see me, and I wonder if she's Esme's daughter or if they're even related at all.
Alice has a sweet voice when she asks me if I'm feeling better.
—Yes. Thank you. I answer politely as she looks to Esme and back to me, her smile getting bigger.
—Awesome. She says, looking back at Esme. —Can I let him in? He wants to check on her.
Esme explains to me that her husband Carlisle wants to come in and examine me.
—He's a doctor, and he took care of you when you came to the house. Is it ok if I call him in?
Esme seems cautious. I thought I was the one who should be careful of her, but she looks more… concerned about me than I am about her. I just don't want to offend her with my words again.
—Yes. I want to thank him as well for looking after me. I answer, watching her face one more time. Her eyes have the same expression from the first time, and I have no idea what the problem is.
I am genuinely grateful she saved my life, but why is it so difficult to put it into words? I think I'm doing a great job at keeping my anxiety contained because I know I can't just roll on the floor crying like a baby because I can't remember my name. I want to, but I can't. I need to solve this situation somehow.
Esme doesn't say anything and turns to Alice, authorizing Carlisle's entrance.
Mr. Cullen has a very different presence from Alice and Esme. They have a brightness to them, and, although different, they both feel warm to me, but Mr. Cullen feels a bit colder, distant. His brown hair is brushed back, and he has a charming smile on his lips, which makes him even more handsome. He's taller than Alice, and his gray suit gives him an elegant look. He and Esme look like a couple straight out of a magazine.
—Hello. He smiles at me, and Esme stands up. —Feeling better today?
He sits where Esme was, still smiling. His voice is calm and comforting, like a doctor's voice should be, but I can feel the distance between us. He's not as warm as Esme, and I can't feel a connection to him like I felt with her.
—Yes, I am. Thank you for taking care of me, Dr. Cullen. I catch a glimpse of Esme's worried eyes on him, but when I looked again, they were gone. Only the smile remained.
He takes out a small oval object from the suit pocket and places it over my wrist.
—Are you feeling any pain or discomfort? He asks as the device beeps, analyzing my body.
—No, I feel… well.
—But? Carlisle removes the device from my wrist and places it over my chest while encouraging me to continue my obviously incomplete report.
—Well… I can't remember how I got here. I can't remember my name or where I'm from. He keeps his eyes on the device as he listens to my story. When the machine beeps one last time, he removes it and reads the results projected in the air. I see all the numbers and graphs but can't tell whether they're good results or not.
—First, let's remove the IV. His hands are gentle and fast, so I don't feel any pain. —I want to take you to the hospital for some exams. His words take me by surprise. The idea of going to a hospital makes my stomach queasy.
—Ahm… I'm feeling quite anxious at this point. The idea of meeting other people outside this room is… frightening.
—Don't worry. He says as his smile gets wider. —We'll do just simple exams. Nothing scary or painful, so there is no need to be nervous. He misunderstands my discomfort with an aversion to pain. I'm not afraid of the pain.
I'm still not comfortable with it but, I have to recover my memory somehow. The hospital is the obvious place to start, but I don't have any ID. How can I walk into a hospital without identification? They'll direct me to a police station and take me away. I'll be alone again.
Carlisle touches my shoulder slightly when I don't say anything for too long. —Is everything all right?
—Yeah, it's just… I don't like hospitals. It wasn't exactly a lie. I can't remember my name, let alone what I like or don't like, but the feeling in my gut tells me I shouldn't be going there. Also, it's a universal truth that people don't like hospitals.
He smiles and pats me lightly on the back. —Don't worry. I promise it won't hurt, ok?
I need something better. I can already picture the cops dragging me out of that hospital for not having an ID. I have to tell them the truth. This is as far as I go. I prefer to walk out with my own two feet instead of being dragged onto the back of a police car. I wonder what they'll do to me.
—I don't know my name, and I don't have an ID. The hospital won't take me without one. I left out the part where the cops will drag me to jail as I don't believe I did anything wrong; well, I hope I haven't, but the government wouldn't allow anyone to walk around without an ID.
Carlisle looks at me for a moment and calmly says —Don't worry. Put on something comfortable and meet me downstairs. It will be all right, I promise. He squeezes my shoulder before leaving the room.
As soon as the door closes, Alice returns to her bright self. —Well, we better start changing then! You can't go out looking like that.
I look down at the clothes. The blueish color of the swimsuit-like piece has small scale-like patterns all over it. It is very tight and uncomfortable, so I feel pretty happy to hear Alice say I'm changing out of it. She moves to the enormous closet and starts to look for something.
—Can you stand up? Esme asks gently.
—Yes. I say less confident than I actually feel.
I move my legs to the right side of the bed and sit on the edge of the mattress, gathering my strength. My legs are out of the blanket, and I can see my tan skin shining under the lights.
I take a deep breath and push my body forward. For a moment, my knees shake, but I find my balance and stop myself from falling.
—This is all you'll need. Alice gives me a towel and some folded clothes. —I guessed your size and put in some underwear as well. The bathroom is right over here.
She points to a door a few steps away from the bed, and I walk over. A thin trail of vapor floats in the air when she opens the door, fogging up the space.
The bathroom is as big as the bedroom. An oversized bathtub on the far end wall is next to a shower now running with hot, steamy water. On the left, a big fogged-up mirror with beautiful lights around it is dripping water onto the large sink below, where a bunch of stuff is neatly placed. Next to the sink, a white toilet completes the clean look of the place. All in there is either white or golden with wooden details.
—There water is already nice and hot. Just jump in and enjoy your shower. We'll be outside if you need anything. Alice closes the door leaving me alone in the fog. I should hurry.
Now, how do I take this off? The swimsuit doesn't have any obvious ways to open it up. The thing wraps around my neck and shoulders going down to my hips like a one-piece. The only open point is the metal ring behind my neck, so I touch it and move it around until I can finally get it unlocked. The whole piece just falls off my body like it's suddenly too big for me. I take the ring and carefully look for clues engraved on the metal, but it's clean. Why was I wearing this? The question falls silent on my mind. If I don't know my name, how would I know that?
I jump into the shower, and the hot water is fantastic. Carlisle assured me everything would be all right, but I wonder if I'm pushing it too far. I definitely don't want to go to the cops or the hospital, but I can't just ask them to let me stay here, no questions asked. Either way, I have nowhere to go. I wonder if Esme would help me if the cops got me. She would probably politely check on me, I guess. At the same time, I would be wailing by myself for being alone without anyone to trust. I don't know if trust is what I feel towards her, but being near her calms me down, and I feel… safe.
I finish my shower and dry myself before going through the clothes Alice gave me. Perfect size. The underwear fits just right, so I pick up the other piece of clothing she handled me: A fleece-lined long-sleeved grayish piece and legging-like pants. On the shirt, the letters pressed onto the cloth read nanotech. I recognize the brand right away, and I can almost hear the jingle on TV about the latest thermal clothing on the market.
The shirt looks significantly oversized, but as I put it on, it starts to shrink until it feels tight around my body and begins to change into different shades of tan until it stops at one a little lighter than my skin. The pants fit the same way, and to anyone looking at me, I would appear to be wearing a pair of workout clothes, but this little piece of clothing can keep my body warm throughout the cold winter. It won't do miracles, but it will keep me from freezing. Like a second skin. Just like the guy on TV said.
I collect my things and leave the bathroom with my hair dripping slightly on the floor.
—Good, you know how to use nanotech. Alice says as she throws a few clothes on the bed.
—You look much better now. Esme says, smiling.
I nod my head a little, looking at her and feeling my body light as a feather.
—Which color do you prefer? We got dark green or red. I recommend the red one, but of course, it is your choice. Alice's voice is high and bright as she holds the clothes in front of me.
She has two knee-high dresses on her hands; one is dark green on the bottom and a slightly lighter shade of green on the top. The red one is the same. Both of them have long sleeves and turtle necks. They seem to fit quite well on the body and are not too doll-like, but… elegant.
She says it's my choice, but she holds the red dress closer to my face. I look at Esme, and she's smiling sweetly at the scene. That warm smile makes my face warm. I look back at the dresses and choose Alice's recommendation.
—The red dress. I say, pointing my finger at it.
—I knew it! I'm sure I got the size right. C'mon, let me help you. Alices shoves the dress on me, and I barely see it happen to be honest. She put the thing over my head, and I was dressed, just like that.
—Perfect! Where is that thing? She pushes a long mirror turned to the wall next to the sofa. I didn't take a look at myself in the bathroom with all that fog, but now, she places the long mirror right in front of me, and I have no choice but to look at it.
I was so worried about who I was that I didn't question how I looked. I lingeringly look at my reflection. This is me. My face is slightly rounded and tan, with freckles spreading around my cheeks and nose. My lips are round, full, and somewhat reddish.
I don't look much older than 17, and it's a shock to me that I look like a teenager. I don't want to sound like I'm bragging, but I felt more mature before looking at myself in the mirror. I was sure I was at least an adult, 21 or older. I'm just a child.
I'll see this image in the mirror the rest of my life, and I should recognize it without even trying, but now it feels more like a stranger's face. I'm not a particularly beautiful or ugly stranger. I can only think of the word average to describe myself. I guess I am… pretty. But the supposedly pretty face staring back at me has a distraught expression in her eyes. Have I been making this face the whole time? My eyebrows are mushed together, and my eyes are slightly squinted like I'm thinking about a pretty serious problem, and I'm about to lose my patience because I can't solve it. Maybe this face is what got Esme confused about my words. I can't sound grateful with a look like this.
I let out a deep breath and watch my face get less angry and more… well, I guess neutral? Esme and Alice were behind me, holding their breath, waiting for my first words.
—The dress is fantastic. I say, trying to manage my facial expressions.
They look at each other for a second in silence until Esme finally says something.
—We better hurry and dry her hair Alice. Carlisle is waiting.
—Got it. Come over, Eve; we need a chair. Alice says to the robot on the corner. The little egg comes over and shoots out three legs to support itself on the floor and opens a square over its head big enough for someone to sit. —Sit down. It'll only be a minute.
I sit down, and Alice grabs a pink bonnet that looks like a deflated balloon and puts it over my hair. I can see the word "Stylizer" written on its front through my reflection in the mirror. The bonnet fills up with hot air making my hair go everywhere inside it as it dries. After three minutes, my hair is perfectly dry and straight, but Alice insists on brushing through it and giving it a bit more shape.
—I just love this thing. She says excitedly. —I don't know how I survived without this until now.
When Alice says I'm ready, I stand up, and we walk to the door, but she touches my shoulder, making me stop.
—Wait, She says, standing in front of me —Why did you say that? About not having an ID.
I look at her blankly without understanding the question.
—I mean… It was a particular thing to say. I can understand how you remember how technology works, like the nanotech and the robot, but why were you so sure you didn't have an ID?
—Well… I didn't notice any pockets on the clothes, so I just assumed. I answer the best I can, but I'm still unsure what she means.
—But you said you didn't have a card, not that you didn't have it on you.
I think carefully about her words and my own as I realize she's right. I was sure I didn't have an ID for some reason, and even if I were to go to the police, they would arrest me for it. Did I believe they wouldn't find my ID on the system? And why did I think that?
—As I said, Carlisle's waiting. Esme says, looking at Alice and pushing me to the door. She seems slightly irritated with her.
—Sure, Alice says —Let's go. I stare at the door in front of me, and my mind goes blank again. I hold my breath, unsure of what's on the other side, as Esme slides the door open. Here we go.