A/N: I'm sorry this has taken so long. There was, well, life. Anyway, I hope you all like it.
Disclaimer, I don't own any of these characters.
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Chapter 5: Nightmares
Taylor wasn't out very long, but it felt long enough to her. While she was out, she dreamed, and what she dreamed, scared her.
There was a house. A big, bright, beautiful house. Close to the ocean. So close she could smell the salt air. The house was made up almost entirely of large, sprawling windows stretching from the floor all the way to the high ceiling.
She was walking through it. It seemed familiar enough--not that she could place it. She kept hearing herself yelling for her mom, not that she could for the life of her figure out why. She felt like she should be yelling for someone else.
Ryan maybe.
She started to call for him to see if he was there... to see if anyone was there. Before she could say his name, she turned a corner and saw someone else in the house. She saw that the person was wearing a long, white, flowing gown just a little off the shoulders. The bottom hem kissed the floor right above bare feet. "Hello?" she called out, and began walking toward the figure. It only took a few steps to realize that the person was her. It was a full-length mirror. She laughed nervously and blushed for being so silly to think that her reflection was actually someone else.
The closer she got, though, the slower she walked. Something wasn't right. The reflection wasn't what she remembered. Then it hit her. She hadn't looked at the face. And when she did, she screamed and backed away, but the reflection only stood still, smiling devilishly through mangled lips. The face was full of scars, old, ugly, and the hair in an unkempt bun, falling like tentacles around the face. The eyes were fully white, barren, empty. Hideous.
Taylor kept screaming and backing away, touching her face to feel if it was real, of those scars were hers. Her reflection escaped the mirror and began walking toward her. It curled its lips exposing jagged, monstrous teeth. "Bitch!" it yelled at her before it stopped, contorted its fingers, and leapt at her. "Ryan!" was the last thing she yelled before it through her against the wall and tore at her face.
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"Ryan!" Taylor screamed, sitting straight up in the bed. It was dark. She didn't know where she was. She was shaking and scared. Instantly, her hands found her face, searching for claw marks, scratches, the sign of the Devil, anything. When she felt the pull of the IV cord, she realized that she was still in the hospital. Not in that house. Not with that monster who had her face. And she was alone.
She brought her knees to her chest, rested her head on them, and began rocking back and forth. She couldn't shake the dream and wondered what the hell it meant.
She was so wrapped up in her own head that she didn't hear the door to her room open, and someone enter.
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"I have to get back to Taylor. Ow." Ryan protested as a doctor, Dr. Gleeson, worked on repairing his broken stitches. He felt terrible for making Taylor pass out, for breaking his stitches, for making Kirsten worry. He'd never forget the look on her face when they wheeled him back to his room on a bed rather than his wheelchair. He never wanted to see her so pale again. He was torn between the two women who meant the most to him, and he hated it.
"You've broken almost half of your stitches, Ryan. I know how hard it is for you, but you have to take care of yourself first before you can take care of Taylor." Kirsten replied from across the room. Her arms crossed.
"I know. I know that, but Taylor… she needs--"
"She needs you not to bleed all over her, man. Blood and Taylor are like oil and water, fire and ice, Mr. T and airplanes. They don't mix." Seth told him from a chair next to his mother.
"Veronica is with her." Kirsten added.
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Ryan shut his eyes and tried to think of anything other than the pain and indignity of getting yet another round of stitches in his back.
When he saw Ryan flinch, Seth spoke up. "Hey, Ryan. Take it easy. I love you and all, but I do not want another needle shoved in my arm because you keep breaking them."
"You mean, you'll cry." Ryan almost smiled.
"Just might. I'll admit it. Once is enough."
Ryan nodded. "Understood. I didn't mean to do this, guys. I just wanted closer to Taylor."
"I know." Kirsten walked over to him and rubbed his face like the mother she was to him. "And you will be. But for right now, you have to heal. We almost lost you, whether you want to believe it or not."
"I just have to know-- if she's woken up yet."
"Sandy's gone to check like you asked." Kirsten said, rubbing her son's shoulder soothingly. "Every thing's going to be ok."
"I hope so." Ryan replied, wishing that this Dr. Gleeson would hurry up with the damn stitches.
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He found her sitting in her bed, rocking, shaking, and silently crying.
"Taylor." he called to her, causing her to stop and look at him. Her eyes were big and bloodshot. He could tell she was terrified.
"Who are you?" she snapped, her voice shaking.
His brow furrowed. "It's me, Sandy. Ryan sent me to check on you."
"Ryan?"
"Yeah." he carefully walked over to her. To him, she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Do you remember what happened?"
And that simple question set her off. "No! No! I don't remember what happened!"-- And before she could say anything else, she remembered. She remembered the stupid vow she had made to herself to not let anyone know that she had amnesia. It seemed silly now, insane even. But she wasn't ready to confide, and especially not in a man she had no idea who was. She released her knees, but they stayed pulled to her chest and she raked her fingers through her hair to smooth it, buying herself some time to calm down. She thought back to what she did remember before that nightmare. That boy, Ryan, was there, sitting on her bed, bleeding--- that was enough. She couldn't think of any more or she'd faint.
She took a deep breath to steady herself, to erase that memory of the blood from her mind. "I mean, I remember Ryan here, and then-- nothing. Until I woke up and it was dark."
"Yeah, you fainted. Ryan's ok, though. He's getting re-stitched. Kirsten is giving him grief for hurting himself again."
Kirsten? She thought, and wondered how many people she 'had' known before this entire thing. She'd probably have to become a hermit now, at least until her memory came back.
"Is he ok?" it was the only thing she could think to say.
"He's fine. You know Ryan."
No, not really. "S-sandy." that name didn't sound right at all to her, but she went with it. "Can you get the doctor for me? Please."
"Sure." he smiled a smile that put her strangely at ease. She wondered if he had that affect on everybody. "We're glad you're ok. You scared us."
"Sorry about that." she smiled back at him. It felt good to smile, but when he left, the smile faded, and she retreated back in the black hole of her useless mind. The face in the mirror haunting her.
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Veronica came back from the cafeteria with coffee in one hand and a gossip magazine in the other. She had been supposed to stay with Taylor while she was out, but had convinced herself that it would be awhile and went to get something to help her stay awake. Taylor had scared her, worried her, made her feel some sort of maternal instinct she wasn't used to feeling.
She loved her daughter. Sure. That was a given. But she had never really been proud of her. She'd always been either too fat, too nerdy, too unpopular, too mouthy, but she was still her daughter, and she loved her, even if for the most part she didn't like her that well. Especially after the French husband fiasco.
It wasn't her fault though, Veronica thought. It was Taylor's. She has always made the wrong choices. Had to lock people in a room to make them be friends with her. And she was always so stalkerish with the boys, especially Ryan which, truth be told, was better than the French husband, but not by much. If only she could have time back, made, helped, her daughter make better choices, she would have both a better relationship with her daughter and maybe even a higher place in society. Win, win for both.
But it was too late. No way to take back the past sins. No way to erase all of her daughter's bad choices. No sense dwelling on the past.
She was halfway down the hall to Taylor's room when she noticed the door was cracked open. As she approached, she could hear the voices of her daughter and the doctor, Dr. McCarthy. She stood beside the door, discretely listening in on the conversation,
"I can't do this anymore." Taylor said.
"Then don't. Tell them the truth." The doctor answered.
"I can't do that either. It would be worse."
"So, you are just going to pretend?"
"It will come back eventually, right?"
"Maybe--but--"
Taylor didn't wait for him to finish. "Then all I have to do is wait it out."
"But why?" the doctor pushed.
"I don't know why. I just do. I don't want them to know that I'm helpless. I don't want them to know that I don't remember them. Remember anything."
"Taylor--"
"No. They can't know that I have amnesia."
Veronica froze nearly choking on her coffee. Then she composed herself, and smiled brightly. Maybe it wasn't too late after all.
She turned and walked back down the hall, sipping her drink. The wheels in her mind already turning.