Remember Me [Jalex]

.3.

New chapter up because I can. Enjoy!

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It took a few days before I was discharged from the hospital. The doctor had a battery of tests to run on me to make sure I was physically stable enough to face the outside world. The nurses tended to my other wounds. Alongside the knock on the head, I had also been cut and bruised in all sorts of places on my body. There were cuts deep enough to need stitches and bruises bad enough that the nurses were worried about fractures. There was also the scary looking knife wound to my stomach that was the main reason I needed a blood transfusion and lent a big hand to my week long unconsciousness.

After many brain scans and countless bandage changes and daily blood tests, the doctors and nurses were happy enough with my health to let me go. Jack was at the hospital every day for almost twenty four hours in a day, only leaving for a couple of hours to shower and rest at home. So far he was my one and only visitor. I had no idea about my other old contacts and my relationship with them now and I didn't dare ask.

In my few days in hospital, I had to attend therapy sessions to help me with my memory loss. The sessions weren't so much about getting my memory back. They were more to help me cope with the drastic changes and whatever trauma that it may have caused. My therapist was a pleasant middle aged lady whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to remind me that I'm "not a teenager who travelled into the future" but "a man who's just forgotten what he had for lunch two weeks ago". Except this lunch was a bit more like a good third of my lifetime. Of course, I never let my sarcasm and doubt leave my head.

My polite behaviour paid off and the therapist was pleased with my response to those sessions. I didn't want to admit it, but her methods worked quite well. There were times when I felt overwhelmed by everything around me like I was just a kid who was thrown into the wild jungles of the real world. Those episodes were quite scary and it calmed me down greatly to have a different perspective on the whole situation. I wasn't a lost child, I'd just forgotten some things like one would've misplaced their car keys or forgotten the details of an extremely mundane day in their life.

As for the actual recovery of my memory, the therapist said that it would come back to me in due time. According to her, it was important that I didn't force it and to let it come back naturally. She said my memories would come back like any memory would, with a reminder of some sort. It could be a place, a word or phrase, or even a scent that would trigger my memories to come back. She also said there was a chance that I may not get one hundred percent of my memory back but it would not affect my life too much. I tried not to let it get to me. I'll learn to cope.

We got the tedious paperwork out of the way and I was soon being wheeled out the hospital lobby and into warm sunlight. I could walk just fine but the nurses had insisted. I had, after all, not used my legs for a full week and they were pretty weak. It never did anyone any good to argue with someone in the medical industry so I let them do as they willed.

Jack drove us home. All along the journey, I looked out at the passing scene. The city hasn't changed too much, save for a new row of shops here and there. I recognised the streets and their names. I noticed a handful of shops have changed, either closed down or moved out over the years. Nevertheless, the familiarity was welcome.

The house was a distance from the main population. Jack turned in at a narrow but well-kept strip of road. Winding through lush, manicured greenery for about ten minutes, we reached a guard house at the end of a brick wall that stretched as far as the eye can see. Beyond the guard house, the roads were no longer tarmac but smooth cement painted and carved to look like red clay tiles.