𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬// 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 02

Samanun Freen: Visions

C H A P T E R
A     M     N     E    S     I     A

'Oh motherfucking hell.' The world swirled in a haze of muted colors and distant voices, like a painting left in the rain. My head throbbed with a relentless pulse, as though someone had decided to turn my brain into a drum for their morose symphony. It wasn't the first time I'd woken up to this disorienting chaos, and yet, it felt as if I was discovering the sensation anew each time. I can't even properly remember how my previous years went by, how my school life went. I can't remember any of them. One day, I just randomly woke up in the hospital bed. I struggled to focus on the shapes around me—blurs of white and gray that seemed to mock my inability to remember. The ceiling above was an expanse of sterile, unyielding white, punctuated only by the harsh glare of fluorescent lights. Each blink felt like a battle, my eyelids heavy as lead. My throat was dry, my mouth a parched desert.
Grunt.
Fuck, it's happening again.
The sharp pain in my head pierced through the fog, sharpening my senses just enough to catch snippets of conversation. A woman with silver hair and wrinkled skin sat beside me, her face a mask of anguish. Nurses bustled about with a purposeful energy that felt alien in its normalcy. A doctor, his face a blur of authority and compassion, hovered nearby. I tried to piece together their presence, but it was like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands.
-

I managed to croak out, 'Sorry, who are you, old lady?' My voice was a broken whisper, barely above a breath.
The old woman's eyes widened, and tears streamed down her cheeks, her sorrow tangible in the sterile air. 'Sam, I'm your grandma,' she choked out, her voice trembling as if it were made of glass.
'G-grandma?' I repeated, the word foreign on my tongue. The name felt like a relic from a forgotten dream. 'Where's my parents?'
Her face fell, and the weight of her next words crashed over me like a tidal wave. 'Your...they died years ago, dear.' Her voice quivered with the weight of her grief, and I felt a void open up inside me, a dark pit where memories should have been.
Despair threatened to overwhelm me. My vision blurred, the edges of the room dissolving into a smudged canvas of grief. I wanted to cry until the tears would wash away the pain, but just then, a new wave of agony surged through my head, sharp and merciless. My body reacted instinctively, a guttural sound escaping my lips as I was jolted by the pain.
'Please, let her rest,' the doctor's voice cut through the turmoil with its clinical calm. 'The accident had a significant impact on her.'
The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and unyielding, as if they were written in stone and carved into my very being. Mygrandma nodded her expression a blend of sorrow and resignation. 'Sorry,' she murmured, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of my thoughts.
I sank back onto the bed, the mattress sagging beneath my weight like a shipwrecked vessel. The room was suddenly too quiet, the echoes of their departure lingering like ghosts. I muttered, 'Accident?' The word felt alien on my tongue, a jagged shard of glass that cut through the fog of my thoughts. 'Then... what was my life before? What was I doing? Whom was I with?'
A cold, suffocating dread settled over me, a weight so heavy it threatened to crush me. My mind was a black hole, devouring every scrap of memory, leaving only darkness in its wake. I was paralyzed by fear, my stomach twisting into knots, a maelstrom of anxiety and helplessness. I couldn't remember a single fucking thing—my past was a void, an abyss that mocked me with its emptiness.
I buried my face in my hands, fingers tangled in my hair, trying to grasp at the shards of a shattered existence. 'Fuck, life. Fuckk, fuck you,' I whispered, my voice a raw whisper against the silence. 'Why did you have to be so cruel to me?'
What if someone was still out there, waiting for me, hoping for my return? The thought was a cruel joke, a taunt from fate itself. As I stared into the abyss of my own forgotten life, I couldn't shake the gnawing fear that maybe, just maybe, the world had moved on without me, and I was left here, a ghost haunting my broken past.
A few days later, the hospital's sterile white walls gave way to the opulence of a mansion, my new reality. The grandeur was suffocating, each corner pristine yet cold, like a showroom for a life that wasn't mine. My "grandma", the only familiar face in this sea of strangers, had brought me here.
'You were hit by a car while walking,' she aid, her voice as smooth and rehearsed as a well-practiced script. 'The injury was severe. It's a miracle you survived.'
Her words felt like a cheap piece of theater, each syllable lacking the authenticity of concern. But I nodded, too disoriented to hallenge the facade. She went on about enrolling me in college, a fresh start that seemed as hollow as the mansion's echoing halls. As I settled into my new room, a photograph on the bedside table caught my eye. In it, a vibrant girl with cherry-redhair, Red Ashira Wicha, stood beside a burnt amber latter, Samantha Pim Wicha. I must be Samanun Freen Wicha, though the name felt foreign on my tongue.
Samantha, my oldest sister, seem to be the picture perfect daughter of Wicha family. Something about her seemed enigmatic, powerful and dominant. Her aura was a magnet. Even though, I don't remember her but I could say.