Blue

Hi,

Play the video above. I'm tellin' you.

"Micah. Your name is Micah Raven." The nurse holds a white notecard in front of my face with scattered letters across the lines.

She tells me they spell Micah Raven, which is apparently my name.

"Micah," I mumble the letters under my breath.

The sounds feel foreign to my lips and the uncomfortableness of the movement tricks the woman into thinking I might have remembered what they mean, although it's just the opposite. Her pink lips purse into disappointment when she realizes my discomfort is misleading.

"How old am I?" I question with various numbers planned as guesses.

"You're 17 years old." She politely answers. "So, Micah. Can you remember anything about yourself at all?" It isn't difficult for her to hide the disappointment with a well-trained smile.

I shake my head and the harsh embrace of pain paralyzes my skull. The question of whether I forgot what pain feels like altogether or if I've never felt a pain so severely fills my bandage-covered mind.

The black-haired nurse's eyes watch me as if to anticipate my next move, which is terribly limited with the lack of feeling in more than half of my body.

Green. Her eyes are green. Green is the color of grass and it's the color of her eyes. What color are my eyes? I don't remember them being green, but I don't remember them at all.

"What is your name?" I stumble upon the sound of my own voice as it annunciates the sounds.

A smile that feels less trained spreads across her face. Reaching her hands to the top of her white collar shirt, she unclips a laminated nametag from its fabric and brings it close to my colorless eyes.

"Can you read that?" Her voice is soft and calm, but her hands are shaking.

Once again, I shake my head. The basic shape of three letters stand out in bold, but my mind can't put them together.

"It's Jen," She smiles and reattaches the nametag where it belongs.

Her metallic green eyes stand out against the stoic white room. Her short black hair stops just above her shoulders, mixing well with her dark skin. Her eyelashes are long and her skin is smooth and uninterrupted by wrinkles. She's probably young, not older than 30, and her words fall from her tongue with a comforting fluency.

Looking around, the white walls, ceiling, and floor stare at me back. The subtle warmth I feel from the sheets of this bed is given with colorless comfort. I try to imagine them green-green like Jen's eyes. Maybe if they were green they would be warmer, and then maybe I would remember something.

"Jen?" My voice doesn't seem to startle her as she pours a clear liquid into a haunting machine that hums next to me.

"Mhmm?" Her perky eyes flash towards me before refocusing on the task at hand.

"Are my eyes green?" The question seems almost childish.

Her face falls as if it were just now that she understood the depth of my forgotten memories. The sounds of the buttons she presses travels through my ears and mix with the hum of the machine.

"No, Micah. Yours are blue." Another well trained smile.

Jen quickly moves her attention from the machine to a small black bag on the navy blue chair placed in the corner of the white room. That color is blue, a dark blue.

"Do my eyes look like that chair?" I question as she fumbles through the bag.

A chuckle falls from her lips as I watch her pull out a small black square from the bag. She unfolds the square to release a mirror from the inside. She hands me the small mirror with her hands shaking, but less violently than before.

I stare at my reflection in the small mirror, big enough for only my eyes to be shown. They don't look anything like the navy chair. My eyes are a light blue—blue like the small bits of sky I can manage to see through the cracks of the blinds that shade the window. My pupils dilate with curiosity before Jen takes back the small mirror, hiding it away in her purse.

A hazy screen falls across the room as I lose dominant control of my eyelids. My mind races with panic while my body falls limp. They race against each other, but with the lack of memories, my mind is probably hollow and can't keep up.

My eyelids fall shut and I am immersed in the dark prison of my mind. Black isn't any better than white. Why aren't the insides of my eyes light blue like the outside?