As The Memories Fade // c.h.

1. Lost

Beep, Beep, Beep.

I scrunched up my face as the incessant beeping noise brought me out of my slumber. My eyes fluttered open, and the first thing I took note of was the fact that the ceiling above my head wasn't mine. My eyes narrowed in confusion as I moved my gaze downwards to the far wall. There was a television hanging in the corner, dark against the pale green paint on the walls.

I didn't remember partying last night, but I suppose that could be the reason I was waking up in an unfamiliar room. My eyes widened when they landed on the machine sitting next to the bed I was in, and I realized just what type of room I was in. A hospital room. I let out a quiet groan of confusion, my eyes following the trails of the tubes until they hit the point where they were connected to my arm. My confusion grew when I noticed another hand lying next to mine on the white sheets. I looked over to my right, taking in the sleeping form of the unfamiliar boy.

He was rather cute, but that was not a concern of mine right now. My concern was why the hell this kid was in my hospital room, sleeping next to my bed like some diligent lover. I let out another whimper as a wave of nausea hit me. It was then that I realized everything hurt. My head hurt. My arm was throbbing where the tubes connected me to the beeping machine next to my bed. My other arm was in pain, and a glance towards it revealed the fact that it was in a cast. My attention returned to the slumbering boy as he shifted in his sleep. I watched as his head lifted slightly, the light of a phone illuminating his face as he presumably checked the time. He let out a sigh and glanced back up at me before looking down again.

His eyes snapped back up to meet mine instantly, wide with shock.

"Rose?" He said, the tone of his voice dripping with disbelief. I frowned at him, concerned by the fact that he knew my name. "Oh my God, Rose! You're awake!" He pushed himself up off his chair and leaned forward as if to kiss me. I jerked backwards, despite the pain in my body caused by doing so.

"Who are you?" I questioned incredulously. He froze, his eyes widening at my words. "Why am I in the hospital?" My voice raised a few octaves as I continued with the questions. The machine's beeping picked up pace as I felt myself begin to panic. "Why am I in the hospital?!" I yelled.

Suddenly the room was swarming with people. But I wasn't paying attention to any of them. I was still focused on the dark-haired boy still standing next to my bed.

"Who are you? Why do you know my name? What's going on?" My voice was getting more hysterical by the minute. The boy stood, frozen, until he was grabbed by a nurse and pulled away from my bed. His eyes never left mine as he was pulled from the room. He looked devastated. Destroyed. And, for some reason, seeing him look so upset—this complete stranger—broke my heart. And so I began to cry.

I cried because I didn't know what the hell was going on. I cried because I had cuts, bruises, and other injuries on my body that I didn't remember receiving. I cried because I was in a hospital. But most of all, I cried because I knew I just emotionally wrecked that poor dark-haired, brown-eyed boy who had so diligently been keeping watch over me while I slept. I cried because seeing him look hurt seemed worse than any other pain I was currently feeling, and I couldn't figure out why.

A sharp pain in my upper arm caused me to let out a yelp of surprise. But I didn't get to even turn to see who had pinched me or poked me or whatever the hell they had done, because my vision immediately began to blur around the edges before it slipped away altogether and I fell unconscious.

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"—not sure if the team will make it past the first stage of the World Cup, but we sure are hoping." I opened my eyes, glancing up at the television in the corner of the room, which had been turned on.