Ch. 3- Confrontation
"When you woke up last night, you told me that you don't remember your own name. Now, what I am wondering is how an English-speaking woman ended up off the Italian coast, in the water, left for dead with two shots in her back, claiming she doesn't know who she even is!" Dr. Washburn took a moment to close his eyes and compose himself, not noticing the analyzing look that swept across her face, eyes narrowed in concentration, not on the doctor, but on what she actually did remember. Washburn opened his mouth to speak, a more calm expression shown to her, but he was interrupted. "Can I trust you? I don't even know your name, only the fact that you are the doctor that pulled bullets out of my back." She thought herself being overly cautious, but it just came naturally to her.
"How can you trust me?! You're the one who we pulled out of the water, half dead! And I did much more than remove a few pieces of metal! You know, the only scar I will have on my body will be on my bloody neck. My neck! How do I explain that, besides saying my crazy ex tried to kill me! So, sorry if I came off as distrusting, but I don't know a damn thing about you!" He was fuming mad, chest heaving, a sharp, lazer-like glare directed at her. She tensed up again, but then relaxed. She replied, "I guess you have a point. You want me to tell you something." Her gaze fell up towards the ceiling, vaulted only six feet above them. She twiddled her hands, fingers circling around each other nervously. He looked her dead in the eyes, shoulders slumping forward in exhaustion, he softened his voice and whispered, "please.." Ignoring her nerves, she began to speak.
"I'm sorry about the cut on your neck. I wasn't thinking straight. I woke up in a dark place, with no idea where I am, and saw a man behind me cutting open my clothes. I'm sorry I assumed." The untold thought rang throughout the room, igniting a heavy silence. "I really am sorry, but I want answers just as bad as you, if not more." His eyebrows arched, curiosity sparked. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I don't know who I am. I don't know where I'm from, where I've been, what I've done. Any of it. It's all blank." Her statement received a blank stare from the man, shock reverberating through his body, then an amusing thought came to mind. Scoffing, he asked "What, like amnesia?" Giving him a blank look, not unlike that of a statue, and with no hesitation, "Exactly." was her curt reply. Realizing she was either completely serious or insane, the smirk fell off his face, replaced with that of a professional doctor, ready to work. "If you have forgotten everything, you must have taken a pretty hard hit to the head, but considering the only head injuries I could identify were some heavy bruising, which isn't enough to cause massive brain trauma, you may have suffered emotionally or psychologically, causing you to repress your memories. If what you're saying is true, this may be the largest case of amnesia ever recorded."
"No records!" she blurted out without thinking. "I get a bad feeling of putting this on record. Anyone can see it." she clarified, not knowing why she felt the need to share with him. "Okay." he said slowly, as if trying to point out the absurdity and lunacy of that statement. Moving on, he continued, "You say you remember nothing? At all?" She nodded her head in confirmation, identifying his demeaning tone but ignoring it for now. "What is the last thing you remember?"
Focusing, she pushed her mind as far back as it could, struggling to understand the brief flashes of memory popping in her head. A pained look appeared on her soft face, contrasting with the nearly casual but blank look she had thrown up earlier in their conversation. Focusing harder now, she attempted to grasp at any memory but only catching snippets as they slipped from her focus. A young man's smiling face. Bright, blinding lights in rain. A rough voice yelling. All came back, but it wasn't enough. She couldn't grasp at them, give them any context. She tried harder. Clenching her hands tightly in a ball, she delved deeper. She was on a boat in the water, during a storm. She was with another, but couldn't see who it was. Sudden spikes of pain flooded from her memory, causing her to grimace. The doctor noticed. He reached out and gently, as if caring for a daughter, grasped her hands and pulled her back to the present.
"What did you see?" he spoke softly, as if anything louder would break her. Eyes watered in feelings of pain, but not memories. "I think I remember a boat. A person was with me. Then just pain. Only pain." she said sorrowfully, trying no to panic. "That's all I got. What comes next was you, cutting open my suit." Losing focus, she glanced around the room, her pained expression loosening. "Can I get some water?" She felt drained, both emotionally and physically. As the doctor went to stand up, the door burst open. Marcus came strolling in with a washcloth and a bowl of water. Smiling, he glanced up, suddenly feeling the somber tone of the room. His smile shifted from that of energy to one of concern, directed at her. "How you feelin'? Still alive, I hope?" His teasing tone had an immediate effect on her, a soft smile growing on her face. Washburn took notice and nudged his fellow doctor in the side. "Seems you aren't completely useless, huh?" Marcus just shrugged.