I became aware of the world again. I didn't open my eyes right away because my head was pounding like I'd been Spartan kicked into a brick wall—yes I do know what that feel like, from experience. My legs felt a mostly numb again, with only occasionally dull shots of pain.

I finally opened my eyes and looked around. It was dark and the only light was from the moon filtering in through the window I'd seen but not noticed before. Legolas sat in a chair beside the bed with his head resting on the bed. He was using one arm as a pillow and the other clasped my hand. His eyes were open but glazed over and moving rapidly, like humans do when their dreaming. He looked rather peaceful, if not slightly uncomfortable.

I just watched him breathing in and out softly. The quiet, the relative lack of pain, the darkness broken only by the pale light of the moon, all came together to give me a rather peaceful, un-stressed feeling. It was nice, however much I hated my lack of knowledge of my condition and where I was and what had happened.

Lost in thought, I hadn't noticed Legolas had woken up until he sat up and stretched. "Hey." I said softly and his eyes found mind and he smiled.

"How are you feeling?"

I shrugged. "Nothing much right now, I think I'll live."

He chuckled and yawned. I smiled a little. "You looked kind of uncomfortable."

He shrugged this time. "There are definitely better ways to spend the night, but I didn't want you to panic if you woke up and I wasn't here like you asked."

I smiled at his hand that was still clasped around mine. "Thanks for that." I said softly. "I don't deal with sudden change or any abnormality very well." I took in how big the bed was—not for the first time, but for the first time of note—before patting the space beside me. "Why don't you lay down all the way?"

An uncertain expression flashed across his face. "I don't—"

"Please?" I begged. Even though the moonlight made him look pale, I could tell it wasn't just that. Whatever he'd done earlier, it's made him weak. "You need to sleep too, but I don't want to be alone." I took his hand again. "Please?"

He sighed. "Fine, but if I get in trouble, I'm blaming you." I smiled as he slipped off his boots and crawled up next to me. He laid on his back staring up at the ceiling. I smiled at him one more time before closing my eyes and letting my usually busy mind drift off. I was freaking exhausted. I was beyond exhausted.

Whispering combined with the bright light of the sun woke me up the next morning. "He wouldn't do it unless she said he could, you know him!" The voice sounded vastly confused and worried. It sounded like the beautiful healer, Legolas' naneth.

"I know, Tarellethiel. Calm down."

"I'm sorry, Elrond. I just don't like this!" She sighed. "Why—" she stopped like she wasn't sure what she was even asking.

"It's alright, Tarellethiel. Let's check her quietly and go. They both need sleep."

Tarellethiel —what on earth was a naneth—sighed again. "I don't like how much of his fae he used yesterday, to calm her down."

"You worry too much, Tarellethiel. He just has a big heart. Besides, you couldn't have done it."

I finally decide to open my eyes before Tarellethiel could answer. I blinked and squinted. The light was way freaking brighter than I'd originally thought.

"Good morning, penneth." Elrond, the beautiful dark-haired elf from before smiled down at me. His eyes were a beautiful sterling gray and though his face looked young, his eyes looked wise and full of age. I'd already seen all of this but seeing and noticing were about as different as hearing and listening, also something I do a lot.

"Morning." I answered.

"We're going to check your legs, then perhaps you can eat some breakfast for us." I nodded and watched as they began to undress my legs. I couldn't help the gasp that flew out of my mouth when I saw them. I don't remember seeing them before.

They were red with the skin mostly stripped away. They had violent burns covering them and just by staring at them the pain increased. Nothing was broken or looked broken, but what skin that was still there was covered in black-blue-purplish bruises. Seeing them gave me the most overwhelming feeling of helplessness. And my MMA. What on earth was I going to do without being able to fight? I needed MMA. I needed the patterns, the freedom, the strength, the challenge. I need my schedule and my practice every afternoon.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears that began to pour down my face and tightened my hold on Legolas' hand. In an attempt to forestall any panic attacks I wrapped myself in my memories of Beethoven's Symphony No. 1. I blocked out everything else entirely seeing only the flow of the black and white keys of a beautiful grand piano as they should be if I were actually playing them myself. Hearing the other instruments going along creating the aweing beauty of music.

I didn't want to care or worry about the pain in my legs and my spine. I didn't want to care about the voices that spoke and called for me. I didn't want to care about the strange world I was now in and how I'd gotten there. I didn't want to think about Mom and Julien. I didn't want to think about all those kids I'd known for twelve years or Ms. Penny, who'd been in the accident with me. I didn't want to know about the semi driver and why he'd hit us. I didn't want to know about whether it was an accident or not.

I didn't want to care.

I didn't remember falling back asleep. But eventually my mind shut off its fear and worry long enough to catch a few winks. This time, I woke up when something brushed my face. I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was the most beautiful ice blue eyes. They were bright and despite their inherently cold color, they were warm and kind. And as before, despite my great knowledge of many words, there didn't seem to be a good enough one to describe what I felt for those eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Legolas asked, with a beautiful warm smile. The smile was framed by long pale, platinum hair that complimented his perfect eyes and made his tan skin glow. His face was young maybe 18, possibly 19, 20 was definitely pushing it. His eyes. His perfect eyes were so bright and mesmerizing. I couldn't not look at them. They looked old, full of hidden pain, but had all the mischief of a youthful boy of 18.

"Better." I answered. He brushed more hair off my face and I couldn't help the heated blush that rose up. Not because I didn't want him to touch me, but maybe because I did. "Did you get enough sleep?" I asked, hoping to distract myself.

He nodded. "I'm starving! What about you?"

I nodded slowly, a frown spreading across my face. He had to bring it up, didn't he? I don't know where we are, but I don't think they have Cheerios here. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?" Legolas' concerned questions didn't help as I tried to fend off the impending doomed feeling that my stupid broken mind was making me feel.

Now, because he mentioned it, my legs began to throb and sting. I took deep breaths, but my vision tunneled a bit. "I—um—" What was I supposed to tell him? Hell, what was I supposed to tell myself? I got physically sick if I don't eat the same normal things. My brain hated new things and change. And my brain was in charge. It rejected everything out of my schedule, hence the panic attacks that always seemed to be there, threateningly, ready to send me over the brink.

"Éponine, what's wrong!?" He cupped my face in his hands and forced me to stare into his beautiful eyes.

"I can't eat." I whispered softly. I pushed down the nausea and butterflies that played in my stomach. Why? Why was I so strange?

"Why?" He asked, echoing my thoughts, almost perfectly. I must have looked how I felt, as his question was followed quickly by another. "Are you going to be ill?" He felt my forehead with the back of his hand.

I tried to blink away the tears as I looked away from him. I couldn't say no and be honest about it, because I didn't know. I never knew. Yes I have my schedule and yes I have every memory of every time I'd had a panic attack and how I'd reacted, but for some reason I could analyze and understand others based on the experiences I remember, but never myself. I was always the one mystery I could never solve.

I might have answered him, but the door opened and my fading confidence and need for comfort vanished completely and I just wanted to be alone. I didn't want to be judged by the strangeness that I couldn't control. I'd already seen the judging and it hurt and I couldn't forget about it. I hated it and didn't want it anymore.

"What's the matter, Legolas?" Elrond's voice asked. I didn't look at either of them while Legolas answered, desperate for the healer to fix the problem. My problems. The ones I'd had my whole life and never been able to fix myself.

I hated this. I hated me. Why am I like this? Why am I so strange and broken? Why couldn't I be like normal people and deal with change and accidents? Why couldn't I forget? Why couldn't I be like Julian, independent and free? Why'd I have to rely on MMA and music to keep me sane and fill my day with the necessary patterns to ease my twisted brains and not overload my poor memory intake?

I didn't want to cry in front of them. I hated when people saw me. They automatically thought I was weak but crying made it worse.

Éponine, child, what is wrong?" Elrond came around the bed and knelt in front of me. He brushed a stray tear off my cheek and smiled warmly, even if there was a bit of pity in his eyes. "Will you not let us help you, penneth?" Strange, his touch was much like Legolas' and Julian's, soothing and gentle. I didn't mind it.

I stare at him a moment before letting my eyes slide pat him, resting on nothing in particular. "Please, penneth. Let us help. What ails you? We cannot help if we do not know." His voice was soft and soothing, like the Mississippi on a nice day, when you can hear the water flowing past, falling over itself, with birds singing in the bulrushes.

"You can't help." I finally answer. "I'm broken." No truer words spoken. My brain was weird and broken. Releasing fear, adrenaline, and anxiety at the stupidest, unnecessary things.

"Nay. No one is broken. Everyone was made exactly as the Valar wanted them to be." I looked over at him. Valar? Just another strange word to add to the list.

Valar, penneth, naneth, ellyth, ion-nin, orc. What's with them? I understand they're elves and all, but can't they just speak normal. I've already hit the it-can't-get-any-worse-stage, they don't need to make it worse than the worse. There's only so much I can take before I have a full on stroke from over-load on the brain.

"Legolas, why don't you go clean yourself up and eat some breakfast. I'd like to talk to her alone."

I ignored Legolas when he promised to be back. It was mean, yeah, but I have self-esteem issues and it often comes out on others, especially I don't know them. Elrond was silent for a long time after he left, but I didn't mind. Silence was normal and nice, for me.

However, after a time, I jumped and my eyes flew back to the older elf when he gently stroked my cheek. "What is wrong, bainpen-nin? Why do you find yourself broken?"

He sat beside me on the bed, stroking my hair lovingly. His eyes were soft and kind. His hair was dark brown and shimmered like silk. He seemed, to me, to glow. He was so beautiful. It made me wonder. Legolas, Tarellethiel, Elrond, they were all really, really beautiful. Where all elves like that, or where the few elves I've actually seen special.

I didn't say any of this. "I want to sit up," was all my answer. He nodded. He stood and slipped his arms under my back and knees. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he effortlessly lifted me and sat me up. He arranged the pillows around me to support me right.

Then he sat again, facing me. He studied me with a sort of awed-starry-eyed look, like I was the amazingly beautiful one. "I am broken." I said again, after a long time.

"How so?" was his answer. I guess he gave up telling me I'm not.

I looked down at my hands and couldn't help wonder how I'd come out with only injured legs, with burns of all things. When I looked back, the accident memories were fuzzy, something I wasn't used to. Well, not fuzzy, confusing. Even looking back it was hard to take in everything happening at once. Hopefully, with time, I can get the whole picture and understand it all. Something I hate, like change and unfamiliarity, confusion. Usually I understand everything I pick up. I have over ten times the memories of everyone else, even just being seventeen, with all those memories, knowledge comes easily. Everything is there in actions and pictures. I used all the references I had and I could easily understand. I guess I got used to it, so when I can't understand, it irritated me.

"My mind," I didn't know what to say, so I gave the technical and medical diagnosis. "I have a mental disease called Obsessive Compulsive Disorder or OCD and hyperthymesia."I wasn't looking at him, but he probably nodded. "Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is a mental health disorder that affects people of all ages and walks of life, and occurs when a person gets caught in a cycle of obsessions and compulsions. Obsessions are unwanted, intrusive thoughts, images or urges that trigger intensely distressing feelings. Compulsions are behaviors an individual engages in to attempt to get rid of the obsessions and/or decrease his or her distress.

"Most people have obsessive thoughts and/or compulsive behaviors at some point in their lives, but that does not mean that we all have "some OCD." In order for a diagnosis of obsessive compulsive disorder to be made, this cycle of obsessions and compulsions becomes so extreme that it consumes a lot of time and gets in the way of important activities that the person values."

I finally look up at him. He's got his head tilted to one side and his eyes are thoughtful. I sigh. "There's more from the source that I got that from." He nodded and I smiled slyly. "It covered what it feels like pretty good.

"Here is one way to think about what having OCD is like: Imagine that your mind got stuck on a certain thought or image…Then this thought or image got replayed in your mind over and over again no matter what you did…You don't want these thoughts — it feels like an avalanche…Along with the thoughts come intense feelings of anxiety…Anxiety is your brain's alarm system. When you feel anxious, it feels like you are in danger. Anxiety is an emotion that tells you to respond, react, protect yourself, DO SOMETHING! On the one hand, you might recognize that the fear doesn't make sense, doesn't seem reasonable, yet it still feels very real, intense, and true…Why would your brain lie? Why would you have these feelings if they weren't true? Feelings don't lie… Do they? Unfortunately, if you have OCD, they do lie. If you have OCD, the warning system in your brain is not working correctly. Your brain is telling you that you are in danger when you are not."

Before he can say anything about my explanation—that technically belongs to the International ODC Foundation website—the door opens and Legolas comes back in. He's followed by Tarellethiel.

Tarellethiel looked like an angel. I haven't seen any other elf women but I felt like she was beyond beautiful even to elves. Her hair was short, which was weird I think, but I'm not sure why. It was beautiful still and her eyes were gray not unlike Elrond. She was thinner than I imagined an elven woman to be and she had a hungry, starved look about her. Her dress was simple in design but shimmered elegant and silver. It fit her body but still flowed and moved easily like a gentle wind. She looked like a queen.

Legolas—He—I can't even say. Just seeing this elf pulled at my heart strings. It was really sappy and mushy when I thought about it but it was the truth. His hair was wet as if he'd taken a bath. It looked a little darker from the water and wasn't braided. He'd changed and was wearing a dark green tunic—I think it's called—and leggings. His boots were only laced partway up and he didn't look like he'd eaten. But technical physical appearances aside, he looked like he glowed, just like Tarellethiel and Elrond. But unlike them, there was something, something I couldn't figure out, that spoke to me. And it soothed me in a way that not even Julian could. Like when he'd calmed me down the first time I woke up.

I stopped talking and Elrond turned. Legolas smiled at me. "Did talking with Lord Elrond help?"

"We aren't finished, but as long as she doesn't mind, you may stay if you wish."

Legolas walked around the bed and sat where he'd been before I let him sleep with me on the bed. "Éponine, you already met her, but officially, this is my naneth." He gestured. "Queen Tarellethiel."

I smiled and bowed my head. Guess I'm a good guesser. She inclined her head in return. "I hope you are feeling better." Queen Tarellethiel said. I'd already heard her voice, but it's so beautiful it's worth mentioning.

"Hyperthymesia?" Lord Elrond then prompted. I turned to him, but Queen Tarellethiel interrupted.

"Hyperthymesia?" She asked.

"Hyperthymesia or Superior Autobiographical Memory is the condition of possessing an extremely detailed autobiographical memory. People with hyperthymesia remember an abnormally vast number of their life experiences." I'd been told that I had it when I was twelve years old exactly eight and a half days after Christmas. Stupid doctor hadn't bothered to tell me what it was exactly, so I'd looked it up on Google. That was the exact answer it gave me. The first link I clicked on gave me this, "Hyperthymesia, or Superior Autobiographical Memory, has become more prominently known thanks to a TV series (Unforgettable) and the publicity surrounding Marilu Henner, who is one of only 12 known people in the world who are able to remember their lives on a day-by-day basis. People with hyperthymesia are able to remember the events of any given calendar date, usually back to puberty, with stunning and accurate detail. They can compare similar dates, or catalog days where the weather was rainy or they were in a certain place. Superior Autobiographical Memory makes it possible for individuals to use their minds like databases, remembering unusual details such as the clothes they wore, whom they may have met that day, and what they ate for lunch, even decades after the original event. A 60 minutes report on hyperthymesia with Leslie Stahl also indicated that people with this talent have a difficult time with relationships, which may be a side effect of always being correct about details, conversations, and things that happened. This may make it hard to argue with someone with Superior Autobiographical Memory, or (alternatively) it may be difficult to lie to someone who can analyze everything you have done on a day-by-day basis and figure out any holes in your story. .org."

They were surprised at my first answer. The last part simply stunned them to silence. I looked between the two older elves, staring at me not knowing what to say, then to Legolas. He had a strange look of awe on his face, before a smile broke forth.

"You remember everything?" He asked.

I nodded. "A blessing and a curse."

He chocked his head to the side and studied me, but whatever he was about to say was lost when my stomach growled, loudly. I burst out laughing and he cracked a smile at me. "You hungry?" He asked. I nodded, still laughing.

"What would you like, child?" Lord Elrond asked. I turned back to him, just in time to catch him hiding a smile of his own.

"Tomatoes!" I answer without even thinking on it. "When in doubt, I can eat as many tomatoes as you put before me!"

His eye brow rose and he exchanged looked with Queen Tarellethiel. She shrugged. "We might as well get her what she wants, at least until we can get a healthy diet set up of things she'll eat."

He nodded and rose. "I'll get them." He smiled warmly down at me. "You're ready to be moved to a more permanent room, why don't the three of you handle that while I'm gone?"