Whisper of the Heart (COMPLETED)

Prologue

I woke up on a hospital bed. That was puzzling to me. I didn't get drunk last night, did I? The last thing I remember doing was getting in my car.

Ahhrgg. My head throbbed. I touched my head, only to discover it in bandages.

"I'm glad you're awake. You've been sleeping for two days," boomed a voice which startled me.

I tilted my eyes to where the sound was coming from. It was Mom. She got up from the couch and slowly sat on the side of the bed.

Two days?

"What happened?" I asked.

"You don't remember?" she went, her eyes looking intently at mine.

"What is there to remember?" My memories were still vivid.

"You were in a car accident."

"C-car accident... Car accident?"

I sprung up with immediacy and reached out for my head. The bandage. Shutting my eyes hard, I was hoping it could help make me remember the intricate details of the occurrences from that night. Getting into the car — yes, I remember that. But the accident? Blank. I remembered fainting.

I buried my face with both hands.

Suddenly I felt Mom squeeze my shoulder. "Wait here," she said. "I'll go call the doctor." Then, she was gone.

I sat back against the incline and tried to recall as much on what had happened. So I was suppose to go somewhere. It was Friday. I got in the car. Going where? I glanced at the calendar on the standee. Monday. April 26th, 2016. I felt like I was going to lose it — think hard! Yet, the only scene that kept playing in the back of my mind was... getting in the car. And fainting.

There was nothing else.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Mr. Barber," the doctor said as he walked in.

I have never seen him before. A gawker clad in a standard doctor's coat. Thick and wavy hair, slicked back. Large spectacles fronting over the slight wrinkles of his face. He seemed like a man of forty. Young by today's standards, but probably a seasoned veteran. He smiled gently, so I felt at ease with him.

"I just have a few questions here," the doctor began his inquiry. One, do you know your name?"

The question felt silly, but of course, I had to answer.

"Edward Barber," I replied.

"Age and D.O.B.?"

"26 years old. Birthday, October 5th, 1989."

"The date today?"

I glanced at the calendar. "It reads April 26th. 2016."

"What do you remember of Friday, April 23rd?" he continued the interview with probing objectivity.

"The board meeting. I resigned at my position as a member of the board." Life of one Edward Barber is tiring. You have to live up not for yourself anymore, but for the expectation of others. Of the upper class. I just wanted to take a break. Then the face of my enraged father flashed back.

"Edward!" cried Mom as she returned.

The doctor remained unfazed. "How about the accident? What do you remember?"

"There has been no accident," I insisted.

Mom and the doctor exchanged looks.

"Mr. Barber," the doctor said. "I have photos of people that I'm going to show you. Just say their names if you know them."