i think i killed my friend

10 june 2018

i have a confession to make. i think i killed my friend. i don't remember anything but i think i did. i think it's me.

i woke up to the smell of bleach and metal, the sound of cries and machines, the sight of frantic and white. they told me i've been in a coma for eight days. they didn't have high hopes of me and they said i was lucky.

all i remembered feeling was confused. i have no recollection of how i ended up in this scary white building with metal and wheels as bed frames. i remembered a torchlight glaring ferociously into my eyeballs with the help of two fingers force opening my eyelids. i heard murmurs and whispers of 'she's awake' and 'she didn't die' from crowds in the background. it took a few moments and a lot of effort to finally make sense of what's happening. i think i'm at the hospital.

i scanned the faces that were standing over my bed. they were mostly relieved and surprised. some men and women were in white robes and some others were holding trays and equipment. one woman, in particular, was dressed differently. she even looked different. her face showed relief yet remorse. happy yet sad. thankful yet hurt. i didn't know such a face exists.

when the people in white left the room, i saw two men in blue standing guard at the door. what is going on? i racked my brains to try to understand and it only hurt me more. that one particular woman looked at me with teary eyes. she walked towards me and gave me a shaky hug. she said she's my mother. she said she was sorry. she apologised again and again. but for what? was she the reason i'm bandaged all over my head and arms? i felt so much guilt from her in that hug that i can't even ask her. or tell her that i don't remember her.

i

don't

remember

my own mother.

sensing how i didn't reciprocate the hug,  she slowly pulled back. she examined my blank and confused face and caress my head. it took her only two seconds to hug me again. this time, she sobbed uncontrollably. she told me margo rose didn't make it. didn't make what? she told me the funeral was four days ago. who's funeral? i have so many questions popped in my head. who is margo rose? but most importantly, who am i?

the two men in blue knocked on the door and walked in. and a deafening silence followed after what they say.

sadie jean, we need to talk to you about margo rose.