It was August 9th when I woke up in that strange room, strapped to a metal table. I remember looking down at my bloody hospital gown, my mouth
going dry as I started to panic. The pain coursing throughout my body was intense; I could hardly move without wincing. I looked to my right and saw
tools. Operating tools. Where was I? Who was I?
I eyed the syringes, clip boards and papers scattered all over the counter to my left. The operating lights and surgical equipment were all shut off and
stored in the corners of the room. Behind me, I heard the jiggling of the door handle and the soft swooft of the fibers underneath the door sliding
against the floor. A woman came in; dressed in a lab coat and dark, brown locks tied in a neat bun. Her pale blue eyes seemed emotionless and they contrasted her dark olive skin.
"Hello?" I asked her weakly, my voice raspy and dry. She didn't turn around to look at me, she just kept shuffling through the papers on the counter.
Once and a while I noticed her eyebrows would furrow together, or she would bring a paper closer to her face. After some silence I banged the back
of my foot against the metal, attempting to make a noise. She spun around quickly, her eyes narrowing while surveying the room. However, her eyes
never landed on me.
"Hey!" I yelled, but still, she remained silent and did not offer me any notice. I began to grow angry and struggle against the restraints holding me
down to the table. The lady spun around again, confusion and fear evident in her eyes before she fled the room. I yelled after her, trying to get
attention. I had no idea why she ignored me or what was going on.
I tried to remember what happened and how I got there, but every time I tried, my mind went blank. I couldn't remember anything. I know that
day was a Friday, and the day before that was a Thursday, and before that, Wednesday. I remember going out to Manhattan to visit my parents on Wednesday. I remember flirting with the guy at the Star Bucks counter that day, too. But. . what happened Thursday? How did I get here? How come I couldn't remember anything from yesterday?
I remember the door opening again, and this time a male came in. His hair was whitening and he had a grey, well trimmed beard. He, too, wore a lab
coat. His eyes were a sparkling blue, like sapphire. His cold, pale skin went well with his appearance. He was followed by a young woman with a grey
turtle neck sweater, black khakis and blonde locks tied in a high pony tale. She followed him stiffly, the name card attached to her turtle neck dangling
gently. Nelly FornsWorth it read. Nelly.
"Doctor Purnell, I don't think the patient died from blood loss. Maybe it was murder." Who died?
The man turned to her swiftly, his strained, professional voice filling the air, "Murder? She was found dead on the side of the road after the accident."
"Hey . . guys? Hello?" I called out to them, but they didn't even look at me. What was going on? Who died?
"Ms. Charlotte Shea, age 23, unmarried, no children." Yeah, that's me. "Cause of death; estimated , blood loss." Wait, what?
"Hey!" I called out to them. "I'm not fucking dead! I'm right here!" But they didn't even look at me! Not a single glance!
Nelly sighed, "Yes , sir." She turned in my direction, leaning over the table and undoing the restraints. I snatched my hands away from the leather
and rubbed my wrists. I got up and walked over to the doctor before patting his shoulder.
He turned around, "My, there's an odd draft in here. Nelly, dear, go tell Conner to check out the ventilation."
Nelly almost bowed. "Yes, sir." She sped away. Doctor Purnell left, clip board in hand as he swiftly turned the corner and left me gaping at his back.
This brings us to now.
I've been wandering these halls for weeks, but I know I'm not dead. I know because I see other people who notice me. I've talked to dozens of them.
The staff doesn't talk to us. We constantly plead for them to tell us what happened to us. None of us remember how we got here. None of us remember
what happened the day before. I beg Doctor Purnell over and over, but he never talks to me. I can't leave the hospital, either. I'm not allowed.
But what bugs me most is that I can't remember what happened on August 8th.