Symptoms

Bad Pun

  You are interested, I see.

  Again, I am Eilaze Underwood Ikeda. My name is the beginning of a bad pun. So the half-German, Brit, and Japanese walked into a bar...

You might be wondering where I'm going with this, but sadly, it seems my train of thought has moved on without me. And words aren't the only thing that's been disappearing from my head. I've been forgetting important dates, locations and it's begun to worsen. It's probably due to the fact that I recently got a new apartment, so it's hard adjusting. On the plus side, the apartment was free, full-furnished and equipped with hand-on maids. What a utopia.

Back to my memory losses, take last week for example when my closest friend came by to "check on me". I don't know why she feels this weird obligation to take care of me, but she does.

Anyway, I distinctly remembered having plans with her at 2A.M this one time. Boy, was I surprised when she arrived the day before we intended at 6P.M. I asked the brunette with a teasing drawl, "Desca, I know you're punctual and all, but is being 8 hours early really necessary?"

She looked at me in a concerned manner and said with her home dialect "Mon cheri, I'm afraid you have lost me there. I come by every week on this specific day at 6. Why would I come by at," she trailed off as she counted the hours in her head, "2A.M? Especially on a weekday?"

I had stared blankly at her with dull eyes, not understanding why she wouldn't normally come at 2A.M on a weekday. What's the significance of a weekday? What is she trying to say?, I recall thinking. Does she not remember?

So I had questioned her with those exact questions and she simply looked at me with sad, maybe pitying eyes. I returned her looks with a deep frown, chewing on my nails while desperately trying to grasp the situation. That's when a thought hit me. Wait, does she think I'm the one that's confused? Am I?

By that time, a familiar feeling of imbalance and nausea had engulfed me. It was something that happened occasionally when my stress levels ascended. The ill feelings added to the confusion. Suddenly, there were dark spots blooming against my vision. Light brown curls and a pair of frantic almond-eyes almost as quickly engulfed my sight, a distant hand shaking me with urgency. I could barely feel Desca shaking me to stay awake and begging me not to fade out, even though it was the only thing I wanted at the time. I was so tired.

Just a little nap.

The next thing I knew, I was being carted hurriedly by a few ghost-white figures down irritatingly bright corridors to an unknown room. That's when the memory ends. There's a huge gap between the white lights and the next memory of me being fully awake in a strange, floating bed with blurred edges. Desca was there, oval-shaped face tear-stained alongside my parents and a grim-faced doctor.

  That's when it all started.

And where my life seemed to end.