Opposites Attract

Chapter 13

Sara stirred slightly and let out a groan when she felt a sharp, throbbing pain in her head. It hurt like nothing she had ever felt before. And it didn't go away. It stung, making her feel light headed and nauseous.

“Sara?” she heard a distant voice call out her name.

Unable to turn her head around, she opened her eyes and stared out at the ceiling. It was plain white, it couldn’t tell less of a story if it tried.

“Sara?” she flinched as she felt a warm hand lay on hers. A familiar voice. A voice that meant so much to her – it felt like home.

“Tyler?” was all she could say.

“Tyler?” the voice repeated. “Tyler?”

“Huh?” Sara forced out as she began to regain sensation in her body. She sat up slowly, an electric wave of pain rushing through her body.

“You expected Tyler?”

She still couldn’t fully recognise the voice. Now it sounded hurt; lifeless.

“What?” Sara blinked twice and turned her head to look around the room. She was surrounded by four walls, plain white, just like the ceiling. There was a limp potted plant in the corner of the room that had seen better days. She didn’t like this room – she didn’t like it at all.

“Sara? Sara – can you hear me?”

“Casey?” she shocked herself as she called out into the dark room. It was dimly lit by a lamp, but bright enough to make out the surroundings.

“Sara.” The voice soothed her – it was so gentle and caring, full of love. “Sara – it’s me, it’s me Jasper.”

“Jasper?” she simply repeated the voice.

“Yeah. Sara – it’s me, Jasper. Can you remember? Sara?”

They were both startled by the click of the door handle as the door was opened and bright yellow light flooded into the room. She quickly closed her eyes, then opened them slowly as they adjusted to the light.

“Sir,” she heard another voice. “Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to ask you to leave. We need to run a few  tests since she has regained consciousness.”

“But I... No, wait, I nee... Can y...” the earlier voice protested.

“Sir, please leave the room now.”

Sara saw another person come into the room – a nurse carrying a clipboard and some loose papers.

“Yes, but...”

“Sir, please.”

“But... I NEED HER TO REMEMBER!” the voice exclaimed. “SHE DOESN’T REMEMBER ME!” It cried out as Sara felt tears rushing to her eyes.

The voice was so empty and hurt – it sounded betrayed. “I need her to remember – I need her to remember me.” And that was all she heard before the owner of the voice was pushed out of the room.

The door was shut and Sara was approached by an old man in a long white coat. He adjusted his glasses and he lowered his face closer to her.

“Miss Whitman?” he cleared his throat.

“Hmm,” Sara responded, brushing the back of her hand across her face to wipe away the tears that had escaped.

“Miss Whitman, can you hear me?”

After a prolonged silence and a questioning look from the old man, she finally spoke you.

“You... You can call me Sara.”