Chapter Text
The pain wakes me—it always does. It is constant, never ceasing. The injections they administer ease back the worst of it, dulling the razor sharp agony—but nothing can alleviate the deep, throbbing ache that seems to reside in my bones. Even the smallest of movements makes it shoot through me like liquid fire.
As always, I awaken confused; the muddled, disoriented feeling is like the pain—never ending. Those are the two things I know for certain. My eyes dart around the room, looking for something familiar as my mind struggles to grasp the concept of self. Who am I? Where am I? Those are the thoughts that dominate my brain.
I don’t know the answers.
You would think I would get used to the uncertainty—but I don’t. It is there every time I open my eyes. For a few brief moments, panic consumes me; I can feel a vast empty space that’s supposed to be filled. My mind is like a puzzle, but the pieces have been scattered and lost—and I don’t know how to find them.
A nurse comes in, bustling around the room; she attaches a device to my finger. I stare at it, disturbed by its presence; she frowns, gently batting my hand away when I try to remove it—telling me I have to calm down so she can get an accurate reading of my pulse. It is impossible—how can I be calm when there’s so much missing?
She strokes my hair to soothe me—asking if I remember her name.
The words are familiar; she’s asked this before. I frown, biting at my lip as I struggle to swim through the murky haze that coats every thought inside my head—it makes everything fuzzy and gray, slippery and hard to grasp. “Ruth? No—Rebecca?”
“Yes!” She smiles. “And what’s this?”
My eyes follow her hands as they move to straighten the covers on my bed. “Blanket.”
She moves around the room, touching different things; I stare at each one, slowly grasping for the name—searching through the foggy recesses of my mind. I get every object right—except the very last one; she touches my shoulder, smiling, and I freeze.
“And who are you?”
I search for a name, but nothing comes—the fog rolls in thicker, obscuring everything from view. “I… don’t know.”
Her smile doesn’t fade—in fact, it seems to grow stronger. “That’s all right—it will come to you eventually.”
There is a question lurking—one I’ve asked before. I know this—somehow… I sense it. I can see myself asking time and time again, but it always . “What’s my name? Why can’t I remember?”
“We don’t know—you were attacked, dear. Doctor Hargrove found you on the street.” It is the same answer she always gives—this time though, she pats my hand and smiles. “You’re doing much, much better. Don’t worry… it will all come back to you soon.”
I sigh, turning my head to watch her as she moves to scribble on the chart that hangs on a hook by the door; I’m searching my memory for some tiny shred—trying to remember the events she described… but there’s nothing inside for me to find. It has vanished, without a trace.
Who am I?
The door opens; Rebecca turns her head, smiling and murmuring in a hushed voice to the who stands there. I can hear bits and pieces of their whispered conversation, but the words themselves escape my understanding; they are quickly lost in the dark empty recess in my head.
“Lot 45 seems to be a success. She’s retained the basics, but nothing else. I don’t think you’ll need to use ECT this time.”
“That’s excellent news, but we can’t get ahead of ourselves. Remember what happened last time.” He brushes past her, approaching my bed; my eyes flick down to the tray in his hands, then up to his face. “Good morning! Rebecca tells me we’ve had some progress today. How are you feeling?”
I stare at him, trying to grasp the answer. “Fuzzy. It’s hard to think.”
“That’s expected… tell me, do you know who I am?”
I shake my head; he looks familiar, but I can’t place him.
“I’m your doctor. My name is Stephen Hargrove.” He slides the tray across my lap, adjusting the bed. I groan; as it moves into an upright position, the pain reawakens, dancing through every part of me. “Shhh… I know it hurts. After you eat, we’ll give you something for the pain, all right? Now I want you to eat every bit of your breakfast.”
My gaze shifts to the tray as he settles himself down in the chair beside my bed. The food is plain and tasteless, which comforts me. It is somehow familiar, chasing away some of the anxiety that rides me. When I finish and shove aside the tray, he smiles, seeming pleased that I’ve followed his orders.
“Is there something else you’d like? I can get you whatever you need… I want you to be happy here.”
A face swims up from the black fog of my memories, accompanied by a name. I speak without thought, answering his question. “Tobias. I want Tobias here.”
His smile tightens, then completely fades; he turns to look at Rebecca, slowly shaking his head. “You see? We can’t allow our hopes to get the better of us. Switch to Lot 46—”
“It could just be a residual memory—it might fade,” she protests.
“No. It’s not.” His eyes return to me; they are full of anger that I don’t understand. “We’ll discuss this further later—after you’ve had your treatment.”
Rebecca’s expression is troubled as they wheel me out of the room. Her hand brushes against mine, giving it a brief, furtive squeeze. “Be brave, dear. It will all be over soon.”
I don’t know what she means, but her words affect me deeply. I know them— I’ve heard them before.
From him.