Listless beeping flooded my mind. Rain pelted the ground. Everywhere my ears could reach was the tumult of mindless water, drawing on in the endless pursuit of happiness—satisfaction in its terror, sloshing over the top. Too much.

Rain? The steady sound wasn't rain, not constant tapping, a soothing noise. This being was endless, an aggressive, choking monstrous, man-eating plant from the movies. There was no attack. There was no screaming. There was beeping and darkness and rough sheets tucked over my shoulders and my sides. Alcohol wipe smell clung to my nose too. Used alcohol wipes...

My eyes shot open. Of course, the alcohol wipes had to be used to have a smell, to say something about anything.

Blinding white spotted my vision, a flurry of color blinking in and out like the concentrated beam of a flashlight. Upon focusing, there were no flashlights, just a rectangle on the ceiling, probably fluorescent bulbs illuminating through the thing. There were no colors, no blinding oranges or greens or purples. Normal, dull gray clamped itself close, wholly settling itself in my eyes.

White and gray and white...

Black and blue... Where was the nearly empty road? The traffic cones and night? Sleep? Old home and maple-scented candles? Where was driving up the gravel road in the cover of darkness, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and stepping into the home I missed and wished to destroy but couldn't? I wasn't that snake of a person, after all.

"You're awake?" Mathew's voice cut through the air. It was stiffer than I thought.
The gray sky of the ceiling seemed to drip like rain.

You don't have to pretend to be asleep. The phrase echoed in my head, Mathew's words, his soft tenor whooshing in and out of my head, a comforting breeze. Home.

But it wasn't home.

He continued, "Are you awake? I could call in a doctor. You're not..." The words were in the air, on a boomerang never meant to be caught by hands, only hit the branches of a wide oak and come tumbling down.

Slowly, I dragged myself upright. My black T-shirt felt fitting for the gloomy occasion. "I'm awake."

In my head, I heard myself answer the accusation of pretense. I'm not.

"Good, good, good." Mathew opened his mouth, then closed it, looking away, at the ceiling.

My brows furrowed. What's up with you? Sucking a breath, I stretched, a time flashing in my mind. 11:58.

"What time is it?" I asked, wiggling my toes. The white blanket shuffled. Nothing else moved. The beiges bricked walls were all set in stone, the sink to the left and heavy looking wood door ahead, Mathew too. He was a statue, staring at me like I was a sort of alien.

Be cordial with him. I swallowed, rehearsing the words in my mind... as long as he didn't use that nickname, everything was fine, cool as any cucumber I could grow.

"Fifteen till one, in the morning." Mathew barely moved, his plain black button-up jacket attached to his figure like water clinging to the xylem of a plant, climbing. "The crash was around midnight... You've been in and out since then. And Morgan..." He trailed off.

"Crash?" The word burned my lips, like an overdose of citrus flavor. Bitter and unreasonably sour. "And Morgan? What about him?"

"The crash," Mathew emphasized the words like it was something I was supposed to know. "We almost crashed into a construction zone and then the semi behind us ran us off the road... Do you not remember? Do I..."

He stood and stalked out of the room. The hospital room. In the emergency hospital room? The guess felt right, with a crash... A crash. We crashed? I searched my brain for the orange construction cones and found them sitting upright and untouched. I tried to find a semi and saw them surrounding us in a jam in Atlanta. There was only a time. 11:58.

Two minutes before midnight, then nothing.
There was a crash... I glanced at my right arm, the weight of the navy cast an anomaly of feeling. Why hadn't I noticed it sooner? The pounding of my brain shouldn't have detracted from my arm. My broken arm? That was what casts were for, broken arms, after all. I broke my arm?

Wood bashed the walls. Brighter light streamed in from the hallway, warmer.

"Hello, Oren, I'm Dr. Ampelos and this is June, she's been taking care of you." The doctor tucked a strand of black hair behind her thin-rimmed glasses. The brunette beside her nodded. The doctor continued, "How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine..." I stared curiously as Dr. Ampelos strode to the beside where I also found my tennis shoes and socks. "Do you know what happened?"

She cast a glance at Mathew. "What do you remember last?"

Stilling, I slacked my jaw, winding the hospital blanket between my fingers, my feet dangling from the bed.

There wasn't much to tell, only reiterating what I was told happened. Even then, I told her the time, the solid cones, and the steady driving speed,

Flashes consumed my brain as speech became a mode of remembering something, lights, and sirens, then nothing again.
She listened intently, a fluidity as she scribbled upon a paperback by a clipboard. There was nodding and more questions. Did I remember anything about the car in particular? My brother? Anything else after the supposed crash? Did I have any pain anywhere else? How did my arm feel? Did my head hurt anywhere else?

"Rate the pain, " Dr. Ampelos instructed, touching the base of my scalp.

I winced, though she barely applied any pressure. "Five."

Dropping her hand, she touched her pen to her lips, eyebrows drawing in. Dr. Ampelos turned to June and nodded. Slowly, she started speaking, "Oren, you have a mild case of retrograde amnesia."

My mouth fell open. "Amnesia?"

Hesitating, Dr. Ampelos continued, "Yes... In this specific type, it's like your brain is putting a block on something you experience for a short time. Your memory of the event will come back shortly. It can be unpredictable and frustrating, and we would like to continue to monitor you for a few hours to ensure there are no more difficulties and some signs of improved recall of the event are shown. Does that make sense?"

Staring, I nodded, my mouth still and unmoving. 

I had amnesia...

My eyes went wide.

I had amnesia.

Voices sounded again, a droning of Mathew's and the nurse's and the doctor's. The noise didn't drag me from my dazed stupor. I was trying to snap out of my blank stare and frozen, mouth-open, wide-eyed pose. I kept shaking myself, but I was a garden statue, like a gnome or decorative rock.

"If you experience any new symptoms, please inform one of our nurses or a doctor on staff." Dr. Ampelos rested a hand on my shoulder and nodded.

My head bopped with hers.

Vegating, I didn't know how long I glowered at my feet, my shoes and socks a focal point of the ignited forest fire terrorizing my brain. Flames licked the trees, charring green to black. Color drained from the foliage quicker than I could breathe the fumes in, plant myself in there.

"Oren." Mathew cleared his throat. "Don't you want to wait for Morgan?"

Wait for him? I looked between June who I presumed left with Dr. Ampelos when the door shut and Mathew. An offer hung in the thick air. Silently, I nodded. Whatever the case, I wanted to see Morgan. Whatever the case...

I should have asked more questions, cleared my brain of weeds, and extinguished the raging fire. I didn't. I stared at a wall and kept in my head, no questions spilling from my lips or an ounce of anything, for that matter. If I had asked questions—

A hand landed on my arm but quickly retracted. I removed my gaze from my shoes, shooting the trespasser a flat stare. Horror was written upon Mathew's face, his eyes bouncing between his hand and my arm. He cleared his throat again. "We should... Let's follow June. She's taking us to the waiting room... the one near the more intensive care unit." His jaw ticked. "We aren't allowed in."

Sucking the inside of my cheek and ignoring the feeling spiking in my chest, I slipped on my shoes. Deep down, I was glad I wasn't listening. There was nothing I wanted to listen to. Why did I want to hear the people ramble about this? Me? This situation I couldn't remember? Forgetting meant losing, but I couldn't forget something I never had. There was no loss, no failing to see beyond what truly was and could be. I didn't need to listen to the present conversation.

Past notions of bravery guided me, and I pushed myself off the hospital bed.

I walked through the threshold, into the warmer light.

__________

Chapter Word Count: 1,495
Total Word Count: 7,399