Not medically correct!!!

Oh Boy, shit's happening

Remington wakes alone.

The room is dark. There's insistent beeping coming from somewhere nearby. He rubs his eyes and discovers a needle in his arm. He yawns. It must be night time, he decides, and wonders why this particular night has been so long. He doesn't remember waking up for a long time.

When he focusses on it, the beeping becomes louder, like it's shouting at him, or at someone else who isn't in the room to hear it. Remington yawns again and sits up slowly, because he knows he's in a hospital and therefore, something must be wrong. Very wrong, he realises, for him to be feeling like he just woke from the dead.

He recalls certain things. It's all messy in his mind, but it's there nonetheless. He remembers going to a party and making out with a girl. He remember arguing with someone over something that is beyond him. He remembers that he's single and an only child and he has had no visitors. There's no questions about that. It's true. It has to be, because it's what he remembers.

Remington rubs his eyes for the second time. They feel heavy enough to drag his whole head down, but he doesn't let them, because there are important things to do, he's sure.

The door opens now. He looks towards the person who steps in and they pause for a moment. Then they say, "Remington, you're awake. When did this happen?"

"Maybe five minutes ago," he tells her.

She nods slowly, like she's in disbelief at what he's said. "And how are we feeling?" She asks.

"Fine." He shrugs.

"No headache?"

Remington shakes his head.

"And how's your stomach feeling? You don't feel sick?"

"No, I feel fine. Just a little confused."

"That's not a surprise. Do you remember how you got here? Or even where here is?"

"I know I'm in hospital. From the look on your face, I assume I've been in some sort of coma?"

She looks both impressed and unsure. "That's right. You've been in a coma for four and a half weeks. What about before that? Do you remember anything?"

"I remember a girl," he says.

"A girl? Can you describe her? Do you know how you're related to her?"

Remington shrugs and yawns again. "I dunno. We kissed, or something. At a party? It was something like a party."

"Okay. And how about your accident? What do you remember of that?"

"My accident?"

She nods.

"You mean the reason I've been in a coma? Dunno. Could be anything, knowing me."

Doctor Sanchez notes what he says down before checking that his vitals are okay. "Alright, Remington. Do you know who I am?"

"A doctor, I assume."

"But you don't know my name?"

"Should I?"

"And what about any visitors you've had? Do you recall anybody?"

"Visitors? I haven't had visitors. The last person I saw was that girl. The fuck is her name?" The woman holds a concerned expression. It makes Remington uneasy. "What?" He asks, "am I wrong?"

"Remington," she begins, hesitating before continuing. "You fell in the shower a month ago. You cracked your head and have been suffering from a traumatic brain injury."

"Okay. But I'm fine now?"

"Not exactly..."

"Well, what is it then? I feel fine."

"I'm gonna read out some names. Tell me if any sound familiar. Emerson. Sebastian. Lonny. Johnny. Jake. Andy. Jinxx. CC. Palaye Royale."

Remington looks at her, clueless. "Never heard them before. The hell is the last one? Palaye what now?"

"I'm afraid you're suffering memory loss, Remington."

"Memory loss? No, I remember just fine. I remember the girl I kissed, I remember the party, I remember-"

"Remington." She sighs. "Those things never happened and the names I read out...they're your friends and your family. Palaye Royale is your band."

"That's bollocks. How do you know? I'm not stupid, I know who I fucking know, alright?"

"You said you kissed a girl. When was this?"

"How should I know? Just before I ended up here, I presume."

"You're married, Remington."

"I'm what? I'm married? That's funny."

"You have a husband."

Remington snorts. "A husband? I have a husband? What am I, gay? Jesus Christ, that's insane! I'm not fucking gay! Why would I kiss a girl if I were gay?"

Doctor Sanchez silently tries to work out how the hell she's going to break the news to his brothers, and more importantly, to Andy, who she knows hasn't been dealing well with the situation. "Do you remember any brothers?"

"No, I'm an only child. I don't have brothers. Stop making shit up."

"And how about your band? What do you remember of that?"

"My band? What fucking band? This is bullshit. Can I go yet?"

"No, not until we've run tests to ensure you're okay."

"I told you, I feel fine." He sighs. "So what? I'm gay and married to a man and I have brothers?" He laughs to himself. "God, that's funny. Imagine me being with a man! Eugh. That's gross."

"Your family have been worried sick about you, Remington."

"I don't have a family."

"They're coming to see you later today, once we're sure everything's okay with you."

"I don't have a family," he says again.

She shakes her head. "Be kind to them, okay? They've been struggling since your accident."

"I don't have a family."

"You have two brothers, Remington. Emerson and Sebastian. They've visited most days."

Remington rolls his eyes and pokes at the needles in his arm. "Whatever you say," he mumbles dismissively, "can I at least have something to do? A book or something? I'm bored shitless."

She blinks stiffly. "I can find you a couple magazines."

"Whatever, just something."

Doctor Sanchez brings him four magazines from the waiting room, leaving them beside him on the bed and closing the door on her way out. Then she returns to her office, picks up the phone, and prepares herself.