I looked around and saw the same settings I had when I fell asleep, a chair on my side with a woman sleeping in it, white walls, a nightstand with a cup of water on it, and a television in the top right corner of the room. My room I guess. It’s all I know, I don’t remember anything about who I am and who I know. This woman who is at my bedside is supposedly my mother. I should remember her, but I don’t. She had golden brown hair with hints of blond, maybe she dyed it, she wore glasses with freckles bordering the bottom rims. She was quite pretty, and I think I looked exactly like her, but I didn’t have any blond in my hair. I wish I did though, it looked so pretty. There was another person, a man, he had white hair and a muscular body. They tell me he is my father. I don’t look anything like him though, maybe I have his nose, but I can barely remember what I look like. All I know is what I’ve seen in the mirror in the bathroom.

I don’t know how many days I’ve been here, I think maybe a week, but I lost track after the third day. They all talk to me, trying to get me to speak. “Do you remember who you are?” they ask, “Do you know how you got here?” But all I do is sit there, making small facial expressions. I haven’t said I word, I don’t really remember how to speak. How does it work? What do I do? Everyday it’s the same thing, I wake up to find my supposed mother or father sitting in the same maroon chair sleeping or awake, when they find that I’m awake they try to talk to me, “How are you sweetie?” I just look at them not finding my words. Maybe I don’t want to talk to them, maybe I don’t know how to respond. How would I respond? “I’m doing fine mother,” or would I say “I’m terrible.” The thing is, I don't know how I am, I don't remember what I’m suppose to feel. They always ask me these questions, I always never answer. They try to talk to me, “Oh, your uncle was in France the other day, he sent you something,” I remember I raised my eyebrow to that one, “But they say you can’t have it here” she said in response to my expression. I wondered what it was, but I didn't ask, I didn't know how.

Today I woke up and watched my mother sleep, when she awoke she smiled at me. “We’re gonna try something different today honey,” she said with a smile on her face. “Someone is gonna come to see you.” Maybe it was another therapist, or maybe a special doctor, they have been trying everything lately, different doctors, different therapies, they never worked; I never remembered and I never spoke. Not really thinking about the new person I was going to meet I went on with my day as I had ever since I could remember.
First, when my parent awoke, I would get up and go to the bathroom and take a shower, then when I came out there would be a meal waiting for me on my bedside. Usually I sat down and ate while my father turned on the television, but I can recall some days that he wasn’t there so I just sat in silence and ate. I liked the silence, I liked it when no one was around. There wasn't anything forcing me to remember and I could have a few moments of silence in my head.
When I got done eating one of the nurses took me to a group room, they had games that I could play and paper for me to draw on. I loved to draw, I would draw whatever I saw, tables, lights, people, and I was pretty good at it too. Some people would come in the group room and look over my shoulder, complementing my drawing, sometimes I ignored them and kept drawing, and others I looked up at them and smiled. There was one kid, a boy, who always watched me draw. Everyone else went off and play a game, or watch TV, but this little boy always just sat in the chair next to me and watched. He never said a word, just watched. Maybe he was mute like me, but I considered him a friend, at times we would look at eachother and I would give him a smile which he would return.

When that was over I was lead to a room where I met my therapist, though it didn’t do much because I didn’t ever talk. He gave me things to think about which I didn’t want to do. He made me unintentionally feel guilty for not remembering. All I do in the sessions is pick at my jeans and sometimes bite my sleeve. My wardrobe was made up of long sleeve shirts and jeans, I didn’t mind it, it was cold here.
After a useless hour of therapy I went back to my room to another meal with my parents. I don’t really complain about the food here, it wasn't wonderful, but it wasn't terrible. I can't really tell though, I don’t remember what I liked and didn’t. It was yet another thing that bugged me.
Today my father was with me for my lunch, he turned on the television like usual and gave me a smile and ruffled my hair a bit. I didn’t like it when he did that. I straightened my hair and went to eating the corn which was on my plate. “The Doc’s here keep telling me to tell you stories... But I have to be blunt with you and say that we didn't have many...” He said. This was the first time he has ever talked to me this much, all he would say was “How are you?” or “What do you want to watch today?” I wasn't use to him trying to engage me in a conversation. “I was with you when you were really little, then I started working. If I was to share stories, you wouldn't remember them...” He continued. I was trying my best to acknowledge him but my attention was elsewhere. “I’m sorry Annie” he said, voice cracking, “I’m so so sorry my dear sweet Annie” tears started to fall from his eyes. I felt terrible this man,no wait, my father was crying because of me. I put my hand on his head as he rested it on my bed. He looked up at me, “I love you,” he whispered putting his head back down to cry. I wanted to make him feel better, I wanted to tell him I loved him back, but I couldn't, the words just wouldn't come. That day I sat there with my father crying in my lap, unable to do anything but pat his head.
“What’s wrong with me?” I thought.
My father wiped up his tears, kissed me on the forehead, and left. He left just like that, what was that about? Maybe he just couldn't bare to say goodbye, maybe... Well...He did tell me he left me for most of my life. I wonder if that's one of the reasons why I was here.
The nurse came in just as my father left. “You have a visitor Annie,” she said coming to get me out of bed. I got up and she looked me over, fixing my hair with her hands. This guy must be really important, the nurses never did this. “Come on sweetie,” she said taking my hand.
I was led to a room I never had been in before, it seemed like a lobby with all the couches, a front desk, and tables. There was only one other person in the room, it was a boy, skinny, with blond hair. As the nurse and I neared the couch I got a full look at him, he seemed to be my age, wearing some t-shirt, and had the most striking green eyes. I sat down on the couch across from him, a wooden table separating us. “Annie...” he said, “... I haven’t seen you in months...” I looked over at the boy, who the heck was he? My eyebrow raised but my mouth still stayed shut. “She hasn’t spoken a word since she woke up,” the nurse informed him. The boy had a look of despair, but it quickly changed to hopefulness. “I’ll... I’ll make her speak,” he said, “I know I can!”

“I’ll leave you two alone if that's alright?” she said looking over at the boy. No, I didn't want that. I didn't want to be left alone here with this stranger. I looked over at the nurse willing her not to leave with my eyes, but she ignored me and walked out. “So you don’t remember me?” said the boy. I looked him over, closer this time, his shirt read “Sixth Paradise,” -- something struck me about that name, I don’t know what -- his hair was a little messy but looked good, and he seemed to be unnaturally skinny. I cocked my head, something seemed to be familiar about this boy. What was it?
I hate this. I hate thinking. It just hurts. It’s the feeling that you know something but you can’t quite reach what it is. It’s like chasing after someone but not being able to reach them because they keep running away.
”chasing after someone but not being able to reach them because they keep running away.” I resisted over in my head.
“C... Cas... ey?” my lips said.
“I knew it, you can speak. They don’t believe in you, but I do!” said the boy.
“Casey... Casey...” I said over and over, it was the only thing I was able to say.
Then, something magical happened. I remembered everything about this boy, I remembered how we met at a Sixth Paradise concert and I remember how I felt love at first sight. I remember all the sleepless nights I spent with him over the phone. I remember our first kiss on my porch with my parents clearly watching. I remember all his dorky building, from bridges to computers. I remember when he dragged me to a convention for some obscure comic, and we hid under one of the booths and kissed. I remember all the times I took him to concerts for bands he despised, I remember making him stand up front just so I could get a good view, and he went gladly. I remember everything, but it was all foggy.
“I.... I... Re...Remember... I... I remember!” I shouted, jumping over the table to give him a gigantic hug.
“I knew you would!” Casey exclaimed, wrapping his arms around me. “Tell me, tell me everything.”

“I can't,” I started, pulling away from him, “I don’t remember anything.”

“You can speak, you know my name... There’s obviously something!”

“Cas... All I remember is you, it’s in faint blurry pieces,” I exclaimed feeling guilt.

“Like?” Casey said frantically, “Just say everything you can, maybe it’ll help!”

I hesitated but told him, “I remember when we first met, I remember our first kiss, I remember some of the concerts... But... That’s it...”

“Details! Details, details, details! EVERYTHING!”

“Casey... It hurts my head,” I said with a growing headache, “please just don't make me go on..”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Annie,” Casey said, moving up against me, “maybe this will help?”

“I’m scared Cas...” I said as I snuggled myself into his arms.

“It’s going to be okay! You’re getting better already,” he reassured me.


Just then the nurse walked back in, “Sorry kids! I had something to take care of...” She said finally examining the situation. “Did we get anywhere?” she asked looking at me. I didn't respond so she looked over at Casey,

“Uh... Nowhere yet. A few more minutes?” Casey said sheepishly.

“Sure, but Annie here has to eat soon,” she said looking over at me like I was five. She patted me, in which I cringed at, on the head and walked out.
“I didn’t know if you were ready, so I...” He trailed off.
“Don’t leave me Casey, please,” I said grabbing him tighter.
“It’s up to you if you want me to tell them, like, if you’re ready to talk to them again.”
“I don’t want to talk to them,” I said in a whisper.
“Then you won’t,” Casey said, pulling me in tight, “I promise.”

That was the first night I remembered crying. I cried and cried in his arms not wanting him to go as he stroked my hair gently.
Sooner than I wanted, the nurse came back in, “honey, I’m sorry but you have to go now,” she said directed at the two of us. Casey stood up and dusted off his jeans.
“Alright, I’ll just... I’ll go home,” he said, disappointed.
I gave out a whimper and clung to him before he could take a step, “Oh dear...” the nurse said looking worried, “Annie, he has to go now, you have to let go.” I didn’t follow her demand and dug my face into Casey’s chest.
“Ann, I’m sorry. I have to go, Nurse says so. I’ll be back soon,” he said in an indifferent voice, but I knew he didn’t mean it like that.
I didn’t budge, “Annie, do we have to do this the hard way?” she said putting her hand on my shoulder. I immediately pulled away, still holding onto Casey.
Sighing, the nurse went out to get what I suppose was backup.
No, I didn’t want him to go, I couldn't bare to lose the one thing I can remember.
“Annie! Go! Don’t make this harder on yourself!” Casey protested.
I didn’t respond to him, just buried my face deeper.

When the nurse returned, she had a man behind her, “Annie, will you please get off him? We don’t want to use force...”
Yet again, I didn't budge.
“Annie!” Casey whispered into my ear, “stop!”
The nurse sighed and signaled to the man behind her. In a matter of seconds they were both on top of me and Casey, who was trying to pry my hands off of him. no I thought, I’m not losing him.
After a minute of struggling they all got me off of him and the man held me still as the other nurse pulled out a needle. He pushed Casey on to the floor, who gave me an apologetic look.

I then let out the most blood-curdling scream I could.

Casey and the nurse immediately put their hands over their ears trying to drown out my screetch. But the man’s grip didn’t budge, I threw myself all over trying to get him to release but to no avail. The nurse grabbed the needle and immediately punctured my arm, sending a sharp pain throughout my body.

I weakened as my legs went limp. “I’m sorry, love,” was the last thing I remember hearing.