I wake up in a comfortable, white bed, wrapped in the warmth of white sheets and blankets, my head resting on a cloud-like pillow. Blinking, I slowly sit up and look around. Pristine, white walls, metal carts and tools surrounding my bed, a row of flowers filling the window sill. 

Hospital. 

Words come to me in short rasps, one after the other, yet none of them form a coherent sentence. 

Lost.

Poor.

Building.

Stranger.

What?

"Hey, hun."

Furrowing my brow, I look to my right to see Holly sitting in a large recliner, her hand resting on top of mine. I hadn't even noticed her touching me. 

"What happened?" 

Holly purses her lips. "You don't remember?"

I look straight ahead, trying to remember, but I come up empty. Little fragments of yesterday blur through my mind, but none of them fit together.  "I..." 

Holly lets out a sob as she rubs her thumb gently across the top of my hand. "Oh, hun, you were gone for so long. I didn't know where you were. I went out looking for you, had a few other friends help me, and, well, we found you a few neighbourhoods away and..."

"And I was raped," I say in a monotone voice, the words falling from my mouth. 

I feel empty, like whatever I had within me before died. I'm not feeling sad or angry or confused or anxious or depressed. I feel like I'm just... here. Just sitting here. Empty. Void. 

Holly cries next to me, rubbing my hand and arm. "But we found you and the doctors are going to help. We're going to send you to talk with someone so you can get over what happened and..."

"I feel empty."

Holly looks at me sadly, her eyes filling with tears. "I know, hun, I know."

Did she though? 

Probably not.

Who really understands anyone completely and what they feel at any moment? 

Holly soon leaves but not before she hugs me tightly and reassures me—although it feels like she's reassuring herself more—that everything will be okay and that she'll be back tomorrow. I nod, but that's it. I can tell I've changed. It's quite obvious in the way I act, but I don't know how to act any different. I feel like somethings missing within me. 

I lie in the bed for the rest of the day, staring up at the ceiling blankly. Soon, the memories from yesterday come back to me, but I don't acknowledge them; I throw them to the back of my mind, under a stash of other unwanted memories. 

What if I left and just restarted my life somewhere else? Would I find someone who would truly care and help me? Would I find that something I'm missing? Or would I just be the same person I am now? 

A doctor enters the room with a clipboard in his hand. "Hello. How are you feeling?"

I shrug, not in the mood to talk. As if I do much of that anyway. Maybe I should just become mute. 

"I see. Well, one of our best will start talking with you soon about the unfortunate event that happened to you. Is that okay?"

I nod. 

"Alright, well, I suppose that's all I have for now. If you need anything, just hit the call button above your bed, okay?"

Another nod.

Hesitating a little, the doctor glances me over then turns away and walks out, frowning. I guess I'm not in as good a condition as they'd thought. Or bad. I don't really know. 

And suddenly, I'm thinking about work and what I'm going to say to my boss. Or I could just never go back. But then I wouldn't have the money to pay rent or get food or anything. 

A swell of anger rises in me. What is wrong with me? Why am I thinking this way? Why am I feeling this way? Why am I not feeling the way I should? 

But then that fleeting feeling is gone.

Sighing, I rest down into my pillow and clasp my hands together, threading my fingers. I feel philosophical like this.

The door opens slowly and a head pops in. I don't bother looking. I just keep staring up at the ceiling. 

"Ang?"

Dave.

I close my eyes for a second then look his way with my eyes. He's standing awkwardly in the doorway, holding his hands in front of him and shifting from foot to foot. 

"How are you feeling?"

I shrug. I suppose I'll just become mute. No point in talking anyways.

He walks up to me and sits down in the chair Holly had sat in. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Do I? Will I? 

Probably not.

I shake my head, not looking at him. I can't tell if this is hard for them or not. 

And to think, I was just getting better. I suppose life finds a thrill in making me miserable, finds a laugh putting me through pain, finds a smile when I fail. It's not the first time. 

I'm losing myself, or I already have. Maybe there's still a little piece of me inside, trapped in a locked cage. Will it ever come back? Will I ever want it to come back?

I don't know.

Dave sighs next to me. "I told Boss what happened. He gave you three weeks. He said he knew someone who went through the same thing, and he feels bad for you."

Of course, he does. I've just become a little pity party. Poor little Angie. 

I suddenly get a sinking feeling in my stomach, and I feel as if something suddenly heavy dropped onto me, holding me tight beneath it. I feel like something is pressing down on my chest, making it hard for me to breath. I try taking deep breaths, but I get this anxious feeling inside of me. It feels like I'm drowning. 

Dave looks at me, panicking a little. I guess I had been hyperventilating a little. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, trying not to look panicked though I can tell by his wide eyes and his flailing hands as if he doesn't know what to do with them. He probably doesn't.

I take another deep breath and nod. Am I okay, though?

Probably not.

That seems to be a reoccurring thought.

Dave settles a little next to me, leaning back into his chair and watching the television. Sometimes he glances my way. I don't. I keep staring up at the ceiling. How white it looks. How clean and pristine and pure.

Unlike me.

Why me? Why did all of this happen to me? Am I not good enough or something? Did I not win the prize and so now I'm being punished? This is just my downfall. But for how long will I fall? 

Dave stands up and sets a small kiss on my forehead then leaves without a word. I guess I'm contagious. 

Is this who I am now? When I am nothing more than stardust and a memory, is this how people will remember me when I leave this earth? That one girl who went through hell, only to fall to rock bottom and never get back up? That girl who never talked? That mute? 

Did I care? Perhaps. But I can't change what happened nor how I feel. And right now, I feel empty and lost, maybe, but mostly empty. 

Just empty.

~~~

❝When I am nothing more than stardust and a memory, is this how people will remember me? That one girl who went through hell, only to fall to rock bottom and never get back up?❞