"It's a concussion," the doctor's voice hits my subconscious ears, but my mind refuses to comprehend it. And my eyes don't want to open. "Highly severe."

"And... What exactly does that mean for her?"

"She's probably going to take things in a lot slower. With the amount of force her head hit both the pole and the cement ground, she could even experience some faulty memory."

"Faulty memory?" The other asks, but I can't put a name to the voice. "She already lost her memory."

"I see that on her records. So that's where this gets messed up. Looking at the MRI, the memory portion of her brain has changed again. It isn't long term, though. It's short term. There's not much more memory damage to be done to this one. Her head's been through a lot of trauma in these past two years, and I'm afraid that even the slightest discrepancy from here on out will set her completely over the edge. It's miracle enough as it is that she lived through this severe of a concussion again."

"So she can't do anything anymore?"

"She can do things, easy things. She can't go upside down in any fashion. She can't do anything that will whip her head around. Nothing wild," the doctor says.

"So you say she's going to have some short term memory problems, right? Does that mean she won't remember a conversation we had seconds before? Will I never be able to have a solid conversation with her again?"

"I can't tell exactly how severely she'll take it until she wakes up. It'll be something to get used to, I'm sure."

"And there's nothing you can do?"

"We give her time and give her space. There's a low chance, but there's still a chance, of her brain overcoming that. Everything depends on her brain's resistant power."

"And that's it?"

"That's it."

*•*•*

As soon as my eyes open, my head is pounding furiously. The light is burning my eyes and the pain throbbing is unbearable.

"Brinley," a voice says, and a hand closes over my own.

I can't even stick on that voice for a second because the pounding in my brain is killing me. I shove my hand against my head, squeezing my eyes shut tight.

"Doctor, we need painkiller."

"Brinley, I need you to look at me for a second," the doctor's voice says. I open my eyes slowly, and everything is blurry and turning black. "I'm going to need you to swallow these pills. They're very effective and you'll find that migrant relieved in about twenty seconds."

I take the pills he puts in my hand immediately, desperate for the relief he promises. And sure enough, my headache dulls to a small throb. As my vision clears up, I find Owen sitting in the chair beside me, Clarin across the room.

"Are you feeling okay, besides the headache? Any stomach aches? Tooth aches? Bodily soreness?" The doctor asks me.

"No," I reply. The only pain I can really recognize is in my head.

"That's a good sign," he says. "And what about blurring vision? When you look left to right, is your vision slower than usual?"

I do as he says, and I feel dizzy immediately. "Yes, it's definitely blurring."

He nods and takes a note on his paper. "And you can name everyone in this room right now?"

I look at the three and nod. "Yes."

"Do you remember why you're here? What happened before?" He asks.

"Mmm..." I search back to the pit of my brain but I can't recall what it was. Why am I in a hospital? "No?"

"Owen, care to explain to her?"

Owen nods, biting down on his lip nervously before beginning. "What's the last thing you remember?"

I close my eyes and try to recall the last thing that occurred. "I was in the hot tub. You were there. Ian, Lucas, Phill, Ben, Parker, Drake, and Jake were all there too."

"Right," Owen looks at me sadly. "Well, you told me you were going to go outside and get your phone about two hours later. You were outside for too long, so I went to find you. I didn't find you, I found your phone with 911 dialed and I knew what happened immediately. I called the number and then ran to find you. When I did find you in the park..." He closes his eyes and sucks in a long breath, holding a fist up to his mouth. "Lucas had a gun up to your head."

Lucas? I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand.

"He slammed your head against a metal pole multiple times and then when you fell, your head hit solid concrete with no breaker," Owen finishes.

Lucas. I can't believe it. But Clarin... I whip my head to Clarin. That was a mistake. I shouldn't have moved that fast. I feel the consequence immediately.

Pain erupts in my neck and up to the top of my skull. By eyes go black around the edges, and I feel dizzy. I actually fall off the edge of the bed. I let out a grunt as my face smacks the ground.

"Brinley!" Someone's hand is on my back and another's is on my arm and they're helping me up off the floor, but I can't even see. Not when I open my eyes. Not when I close them and try again. I panic, sucking in short breaths.

"Oxygen," the doctor's stern voice says.

I'm pushed back onto the bed and a mask is fastened around my head. New air fills my lungs and I start to relax a bit. My eyes still won't allow me to see anything.

"Brinley," Owen's voice says, "You're okay. Brinley, look at me."

"I can't," I panic, blinking over and over. "My eyes-"

"Tranquilizer," the doctor calls out and something pricks into my arm to seep into my veins. "I need you to stay calm. I need to tell you some things."

"But my eyes-"

"I'll get there," the doctor says. I feel a hand enclose around my own and I know it's Owen. "You've done more damage to your brain than is physically endurable. It's overworked and overly injured. This whole ordeal this weekend caused a new memory problem. Short-term memory issues. We don't know exactly how severe, but it's enough to mess up your mind a bit."

I bite my lip, blinking again and again, but all I see is black. No Owen. No Clarin. No doctor. Nobody.

"This is what I was afraid of," the doctor says. And then he sighs. "It seems you've got what's called cortical blindness. It's only temporary, until that portion of your brain heals. That could be anywhere from a week to three or four years."

I hear Owen suck in a sharp breath and his hand tightens around mine.

"Now, we need to do a few more MRI's and X-ray's just to be absolutely positive in what we're dealing with. If it's okay with you, could we go ahead and do that now?"

I blink a few times, but all I see is darkness. Where am I? What is this place? What the heck is going on? I try to sit up, but someone puts their hand on my shoulder to stop me.

"Would someone please turn on the lights?" I ask. "Where am I? Who is this?" I ask again, grabbing onto the hand touching my shoulder.

"I don't think I can deal with this for very long. Temporary had better be short," a deep voice says. Owen.

*•*•*

"You're free to go home," the doctor says. "But listen here, you're stuck with bed rest most of the day. Someone needs stay at her side at all times."

"I can do that," Owen says.

"You can escort her on short walks every morning and night, but too much exertion is bad for her," the doctor continues.

I nod at nothing. I see nothing. But I feel Owen's hand in mine and I feel calm.

"If anything at all goes wrong, you come here immediately. You got it?"

"Yes," Owen and Clarin reply.

The walk to the car is difficult. It's been days since I've actually walked somewhere besides the room next door. And now I can't see, so I have to take every step slowly and solely rely on Owen to lead me safely to the car.

"You're going to have to stay in Oregon for a few more weeks," Owen breaks the silence on the drive back to the Michaels' home. "You aren't fit for air travel."

"Okay," I reply, turning my head to where the window would be if I could see it. The trees passing by. The homes. The sky. "What color is the sky?"

"Blue," Clarin replies slowly.

"No, I know the sky is blue. I mean, what shade? Is the sun out? Is it cloudy?" I ask her with a small smile.

"It's grey. Lots of clouds. I can't even see the sun," is her reply.

The rest of the ride is silent. I don't know what to say. It's obvious the others don't either. This is all so sudden. I thought everything would be over. But nothing stops. I get pushed out a window. I lose my memory. I get kidnapped by Jonathan. Even after he goes to jail, he torments me. Lucas comes after me. I have short term memory loss. I am temporarily blind. What else could possibly go wrong?

"We're here," Clarin says.

The door beside me opens and I'm helped out by strong arms that belong to Owen. He holds my hand and leads me up the pathway and then onto the porch and into the house.

"Brinley!" A voice I know as Joey calls out. "I was wondering when I'd get to see my bestie again!"

"Yeah, and I'm wondering when I'll be able to see mine too," I mumble, frowning.

"Huh?" Joey asks.

"I'm blind, Joey," I say. And those words make it real. I don't know how long I'll be like this. I don't know when I'll see any of these people again.

"What?" He sounds shocked. I don't blame him.

"Temporarily," Owen interjects. "It isn't permanent."

"But still, holy crap," Joey says.

"Holy crap is right," I smile.

"Why don't we trade your room upstairs with the one down here so you don't have to climb the stairs?" Owen changes the subject.

"No. I can climb the stairs just fine,"I reply.

He hesitates for a moment before replying. "Okay. But you aren't allowed to come down them by yourself. Ever."

"Fine," I nod.

He leads me up each step slowly, and I grip not only his hand but the railing. It takes about three times longer than usual, but I make it up. And then we turn right and make our way to the correct room.

"I can take it from here," Clarin says.

"Right," Owen replies. But first his arms wrap around me. I lean into him and relax my eyes closed even though it doesn't make a difference. His hand smooths out my hair and I match my breaths to his. I don't know how I could deal with anything without him with me.

"We'll get through this," Owen says. "I promise."