The Fate Of The Marked

Chapter Two

I woke much slower than before. My mind had cleared a bit but I still couldn't sit up. I moved one of my legs and was met with pain. My shoulders and neck were stiff. My entire abdomen hurt. I turned my head a little and cracked my eyes open a little. The room I was in was dark and silent besides a machine next to me that beeped in time with my heart.

It grew annoying fast.

I was laying in a bed with white sheets, a thin white blanket, and a white pillow. Even the walls were white. There was a wooden door to my left, and another to my right. Both were shut. I did not dare sit up yet. There was a needle connected to an IV in my arm, pumping in a clear liquid. It did not hurt, so I let it be. Faintly I could hear voices coming from behind the left door.

It didn't take long for someone to figure out I was awake. Just as I began to try to get out of the bed, a woman dressed in all blue came in and smiled at me. She flicked on the light and I jerked away from the sudden brightness, head pounding in protest. She spoke so fast, I didn't catch the words. My mind felt too tired to even try. When I didn't respond, she spoke again.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

She moved my arm and checked the machine beside me.

"Are you any pain?" She tried again.

I shook my head. It was a lie, but I didn't want her to give me something that would make me sleep again. I could deal with the pain.

"I just need to check your blood pressure again, then I'll send Dr. Roberts in." She said.

She took my arm and wrapped a sleeve around it. I tried to pull away when it tightened, but she held me still. When she let go and I scooted to the far end of the bed, away from her. I felt hot, like I was burning in my own skin.

"Try not to move so much," She chided as she made her way out the door, "We can't tell if you have a concussion or not yet."

I couldn't move very far. There were wires attached to my chest that led to the machine beside my bed. I wanted to pull the needle out but knew they would only put it back in.

Carefully, I brought my knees to my chest. The muscles on the back of my legs and thighs were sore, as if I had ran for miles. My heart was still pounding. My breathing wouldn't slow. I was painfully aware of every little noise that passed through the thin walls. I wished the nurse would have turned the light off. It burned to look at the pure white walls. I stared at the clock on the wall and counted, trying to make the time pass, and to keep the panic that was quickly rising down.

A man in a white coat came in after nearly thirty minutes. He smiled at me and I genuinely made an effort to smile back. I glanced at his name tag. Dr. Roberts shined a light in my eyes and asked me to turn my head. I did and didn't show the pain that shot through my neck. Next, he asked me questions, none of which I could answer.

"What's your name?"

"Where are you from?"

"Where are your parents?"

"How did you end up in the alleyway?"

I shook my head at each he asked. I didn't know. His guess was as good as mine, if not better. My head began to pound as he continued.

"Does your throat hurt?"

I shook my head at him again and could see his frustration grow.

"Can you say something? Anything?"

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I choked instead and coughed, making my head hurt much worse than before. Dr. Roberts handed me a paper cup with a little water in it and I drank without pausing to wonder if he had put anything in it. It soothed my dry throat, and that was worth getting knocked out again for.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

He nodded and wrote something down on a clipboard. I emptied the rest of the cup and wrapped an arm around my knees. He continued to question me before cutting off abruptly. He left for a few minutes and came back with two nurses and a wheelchair. They took the wires off of me and unclipped something on the IV so I could move. I tried to stand but nearly fell over the moment I had to balance on my own.

No one told me anything, so I kept quiet. The nurse wheeled me down long, winding hallways and down an elevator. Finally, we stopped inside a room with a big, white machine in the center. The nurse helped me stand again and for the first time I noticed I was wearing a plain gray gown. With no back. My face flushed, but if she noticed, she didn't say anything. She helped me lay down and asked if I had ever heard of a CAT scan. She explained when I answered shook my head, but I couldn't pay attention.

I could only focus on the machine I was going to be stuck in. It looked like a thick ring with a hole in the center. When she asked if I had any questions, I shook my head again. I laid flat on my back.

"Try not to move when you go in, okay?" She said, already walking to a computer across the room. "Otherwise, I won't see the picture clearly enough."

The door opened and Dr. Roberts came in. He didn't speak to me, but moved straight for the nurse behind a computer. The last thing I saw before I was moved out of view was him standing over her shoulder, lips perched in confusion.

I closed my eyes and held still. I knew I was imagining that the small space was closing in on me. There were several beeps and other noises that made my pulse jump, but I wouldn't budge. I only ever wanted to do this once. My leg itched, and I unclenched my fist, preparing to stretch down to scratch it.

Don't you dare move from that corner, boy. I mean it!

The voice startled me. I glanced around, but there was no one besides the staff. That hadn't been the short doctor's voice, and had been too deep to be the nurse. The little flicker of a memory was gone before I could understand what had happened.

"Stop moving please,"

I froze, but no one else spoke.

Then, it was over.

Dr. Roberts and the nurse helped me back into the wheelchair and instructed another nurse to take me back upstairs. I closed my eyes again and leaned back into the chair when the room began to spin. The only thing I could feel over the thumping in my head was frustration.

Why couldn't I remember? The voice from before faded further away until I couldn't quite recall the pitch. The words followed suit.

Later, as I slept, I dreamed of swirling colors and images that I couldn't make out. It seemed to last an eternity. I woke with a start and refused to go back to sleep. Dr. Roberts came back and asked some more questions, but none of them were personal.

At first, he asked me to count to one hundred. Then, multiply numbers and say the alphabet. I didn't have any problems doing any of it. He gave me a pen and paper and asked me to write out things he said. Dr. Roberts had me read things that he wrote, and eventually was quiet for a long time. He took my temperature and frowned.

"Your scan showed no brain damage," He said carefully. "That can mean a few other things."

I waited for him to continue.

"Your either repressing your memories, consciously or unconsciously, or you've suffered damage that the scan didn't pick up on. The first is more likely. It might be out of fear, or because they are too painful for you to deal with right now. It's more common than a lot of people think and it's easily fixable," Dr. Roberts said. "There isn't much I can do for you, besides recommend a therapist and release you. The other injuries you sustained aren't serious enough for us to hold you."

"We and the police are doing our best to locate your parents. No one with your description has been reported missing." Dr. Roberts siad, clearing his throat. "I need to warn you, it may be fully possible that you were left somewhere. Abandon by someone in your family."

I didn't speak. I was relieved that he didn't think I was lying and simply didn't have a reaction to being told that my family might not had wanted me anymore.

"However, we do need to put a name on your medical file, at least until you remember your identity." Said Dr. Roberts. "You were found On Elliot Steele Lane. We may call you Elliot Steele, unless you prefer John Doe."

I nodded. Elliot. It didn't sound familiar, but I didn't say that. I would just have to live with it until I discovered who I really was.

"An officer will be here to talk to you shortly. You don't have to speak, but please remember that we are all just trying to help."

I nodded again.

Dr. Roberts looked at his watch and wrote something else down, standing. He reached out for my hand but I didn't take it. Something stopped me. I couldn't describe how I felt. The air around him was different. Not right. His eyes seemed to darken for a second, but the look was gone when he blinked.

"You can shower, if you can get up by yourself. There's a TV and magazines on that shelf," He said, pointing to my right, "If you get bored. Just don't leave the room unless you need help. A nurse will be in soon with pain medicine. Press the red button behind your head if you need any help."

I did not move until he left. A shower sounded like a good idea but first I needed something to make my headache go away. Almost on cue, a nurse walked in. She had short and had shaved hair like a boy. Automatically, I reached up and touched my own hair. It was barely there. I blinked away the sudden wetness in my eyes, confused, not understanding why that was as upsetting as it was. I had been dumped, left in an alley, and I was crying over my hair. She saw the look on my face and smiled softly.

"We match," She said brightly, handing me a cup of water and two pills. "But mines like this because I want it to be. We had to cut your hair. It was too matted with blood."

I grimaced and swallowed the pills, and gave her back the empty cup. She held out her other hand and I shook it. It hit me as funny that people shook hands.

"My name's Mary," She said, "And I hear they're calling you Elliot.

I nodded and dropped my hand.

"Give those a few minutes to kick in. They're the strongest we can give you right now."

"Thanks." I said.

My voice was rough, like I hadn't spoken in a while.

"H-how long have I been here?" I asked as loudly as I dared when she turned to leave.

Mary smiled at me sadly.

"Two days," She said seriously before smiling again. "But that's enough to drive anyone crazy, even if you were out for most of it."

I waited, like she said, for the pills to kick in, before standing slowly. I rubbed my arm where the IV had been. The pain had been subdued. For now. I hobbled my way stiffly over to the door in the far right corner of the room, trying to move as little as possible. It lead to a small bathroom that held a plain shower, toilet and sink. I kept one hand on something as I made my way for the shower.

I leaned over and fiddled with the nobs, making the water go as hot as I could stand. I took my time washing and felt lighter when I stepped out until I looked in the mirror.

My entire torso was black and blue. There were bruises covering my back and arms, as well as my most of my legs. I touched the back of my head and was met with a sharp sting. My fingers brushed the bandage briefly. My face had not been hurt much, nor my neck, but they were slightly swollen. My black hair was cut short and my eyes had dark circles under them, contrasting the stark whiteness of my face.

I looked away and dressed as quickly as I could. My muscles were not as tense and hurt marginally less than before, but I felt cleaner. When I made it back into the other room, someone was watching me. A uniformed woman sat in a chair by the bed. She didn't smile or offer to help me as I made my way over slowly, uncomfortable that I was only wearing a gown that went to my knees.

I sat down and pulled the blanket over my lap, though I was already warm enough.

"I believe their calling you Elliot Steele?" She asked in a gravely smokers voice.

I nodded. Let the questions begin.

Again.

Almost no time later, it was finished. The officer stood and gave me a card with her name and number on it, telling me to call her if I remembered anything else. I said I would, almost certain I would forget to. She told me that I would have to spend the night here because it was so late, but would be placed with a foster family by tomorrow, if any were available near by.

That scared me. What if there was nowhere for me to go? The officer left me alone with my thoughts. I lay down and pulled the blanket up to my chin. I felt tears in my eyes again. I wiped them away with vengeance. I would not cry.

I had to stay strong.

Strong was the only way to figure this out.

As I slipped into sleep, I did my best to try to remember something, anything but just like before, it remained just out of my reach.