Becoming Jane Doe

Chapter 5:

I sat at the small table alone in a room full of others who were in varying degrees of rehab and/or dying. It had been two weeks since I saw that blue eyed boy. Turns out I was found in a smashed car with no license or ID. I still haven't remembered anything about who I am or what happened that night. The only thing I knew was what the doctors had told me about that night. I guess I was drunk or something, because I hit another car. In that car was an old man who was the grandfather of the blue-eyed boy who yelled at me two weeks before.

The old man was in worse shape than I was when we first arrived. However, he had a rapid recovery these past few weeks and now is in a way better state than I am. They say the reason he was in worse shape than I was, is due to the fact that he saw me coming, causing his body to tense up. I, on the other hand, seemed to have not, which was likely due to intoxication, the reason most of the doctors have assumed was why I caused the accident. Since I had been drunk my bodies' muscles were loose and then when the crash happened for some reason, I don't understand the exact science, I was harm far less than the old man. I guess in many people's eyes being paralyzed from the waist down and not remembering anything about who I was is less of a problem than almost dying like the old man had, I don't know if I'd agree but then again they were the professionals.

My mind just continuously remembered that I could've killed him. I almost killed him. I was nearly a murderer. Involuntary manslaughter is still murder. I would have already had to go to court and if he were to die I would be put into prison, so let's hope he continues living. At the moment I can't really be charged for anything at the moment being a Jane Doe and all.

My stomach churned at the thought of me killing someone, someone being dead because of my recklessness. How could I be so stupid? My head ached from lack of food. I could hardly eat anything with all the anxiety that riddled my body and mind. I wasn't lonely though, which many people might find strange since I haven't had a real conversation with anyone since I got here, aside from the small talk I had with my nurses which were kind of mandatory. The reason I wasn't lonely was because I was used to this. I didn't know how I knew this considering I knew nothing about who I was before I got here, but somehow I knew this. I was a loner, not by choice. The circumstances always left me alone thus resulted in me becoming used to it even content in my alone time.

I did have a few small things I knew about myself. Things like my favourite colour, which was yellow. I knew I hated mushrooms. I knew I liked sunrises. The last one I learned or I guess remembered since I began staying here. I saw a peak of the sun rising through a slightly opened curtain. I had stayed up the entire night crying and that sunrise had seemed like a sign of hope it was orange and yellow and pink and it was so beautiful. I wanted to see another sunrise without having to peak through a quarter of a window but as I had heard so many times before 'patients must be accompanied by a worker from the hospital if they are to leave the building' and the hospital was relatively vacant of a worker at that time so there is never anyone to accompany me outside to see the sunrise. Until I can go outside by myself I'll just have to settle with watching the sunrise through a dirty window with a terrible view of the sky.

A voice rang over the intercom "Free Time is now over, all patients must not return to their rooms." I wasted my entire Free Time thinking again. I reached over to grab my unread copy of "Jesus and Friends" which the hospital offer to all patients to read during their times in the hospital. I guess when so many people here are on their last leg getting close to Jesus would be a smart thing to do. It just didn't seem like my kind of thing.

I sat fully straight in my wheel chair. I looked around as the room emptied. I found it easier to maneuver my wheelchair if the room was more empty than full. I looked over at the boy from a week ago. He was sitting with his grandfather, the man I almost killed. The boy had the biggest smile on his face and god damn it was beautiful. Why did he have to hate me? He looked up and my eyes then met with the bluest eyes I've ever seen. His beautiful smile faded away. He shook his head and looked at his grandfather who was now standing. I watched them both leave.

I looked over at the old upright piano that lived in the corner of the common room. I was hoping someone would start playing a sad song to be the soundtrack if my life were a movie. What was I fucking thinking, I wasn't important enough to have a movie about myself. The room was now completely empty and I needed to leave. I tear fell from my face and hit the Jesus on the cover of "Jesus with Friends" in the eye. Maybe he was crying with me. I wiped the wet, salty tear off the book so I wouldn't be fined if it was damaged. "Thanks big J, nice to know you have my back," I said sarcastically, "maybe I'm not all alone." I looked at the empty room I was in, "or maybe I am all alone..."