Your gonna miss me when I'm gone

chapter 14

Beca watched the redhead cry in this other woman's arms. Who was she? Why was she crying? Had she made her sad? She hoped not. There was something about her that was familiar. Too familiar. Beca felt like she should withdraw from someone who made her feel like that. So who was she?

It was confusing for the brunette. She woke up in hospital, surrounded by people who claimed to know her, and yet, she had absolutely no memory of them. But what was worst was the pain she saw go through people's eyes when she asked them who they were. That was what happened with that blonde girl. Aubrey she said her name was. She seemed nice enough, but she had called them acquaintances. Did that mean that they weren't friends? Beca hated that she couldn't remember anything.

The most painful thing for her was seeing her parents. She didn't remember them either. And they hadn't had the resolve that the others who had visited had. Her own parents had broken down in front of her when she asked them who they were. She had made so many people upset. She hated herself for it. It wasn't fair on them.

It did make her wonder though. Everyone that had visited her had been so nice, despite her situation. She didn't exactly know what her situation was though. The doctors refused to tell her anything just yet except for her injuries. She had no idea how she got them. She seemed to have nice enough friends, but they all seemed to be hiding something from her. As if they felt guilty about something. Had they been the cause of the way she was?

She remember one boy coming to see her. He had said that his name was Jesse and that they were good friends. She could see through the way that he was looking at her that he liked her. Or used to. There was something he wasn't telling her, more so than the others. He had apologised for not seeing her sooner but he had been sorting out stuff for her back at Barden, where she went apparently. He hadn't stayed for long either. The hurt in his eyes evident as he left.

Beca found herself alone most of the time. Most people could only visit her once. She knew it was too painful to see someone that they cared about with no memory of who they were. Not even that Chloe girl had visited again which she was most disappointed about. Not even her parents visited her. With all this time to herself, she found herself concocting ridiculous scenarios in her head about how she got this way. Sometimes she was a secret agent, sent on a mission, other times she was a star-crossed lover from a rival family. She couldn't really do much with herself. Her left arm was broken painfully and she discovered that she was in fact left-handed as she couldn't write well with her right hand.

But Beca found that she was craving something. And she didn't know what it was. It wasn't the redhead, although a visit from her wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world. Beca briefly wondered if she was gay. Her feelings for that redhead were not new, she knew that much. They were from deep within her, as if she had been harbouring them before. Had they been girlfriends? Maybe that was why she had been so upset at Beca not remembering who she was. But no. that was stupid. A girl like that would probably have a boyfriend and would never go for a tattooed weirdo like her.

Beca found that her favourite time of the day, well night, was when the janitor went past her room. He was an old man who pushed his trolley of cleaning utensils past her room at two-thirty every morning. But what Beca loved about it was the music that accompanied him. She listened for him every night, hoping to hear something. She felt that that small amount of music made her feel so much better. Made her feel more relaxed. Nobody visited her anymore. She had to find a way to listen to music. The nurses wouldn't allow her to have any sort of stimulant, like music.

She also believed that if she managed to get out for a bit, she might be able to remember who she was, who she is. She couldn't face any more sadness in the eyes of the others. They deserved that much, at least. She knew that she had to make a plan.

She had to get out.