Memory After Memory

Chapter 1

I could only stand there, staring out into the abyss. The fear I had was eating away at me from the inside out as my breathing and heart rate increased with every passing second that I stood there and stared. At least, that's what it felt like; just staring. I could make no sound, no matter how hard I tried, and I couldn't move. The only things surrounding me was the darkness and an unsettling feeling that someone or something was rather close to me. I wanted to shake that feeling away and say it was just a silly feeling, but then again, I couldn't move. My discomfort with not being able to see anything only made things worse and made me try to fight my body to move even an inch, but even if I could move, I'm pretty sure my fear would've held me down more than I already was.

My body tensed and shivers went down my spine as I felt something just barely touch my shoulder. The feeling was no longer a feeling. It was simply a fact. Someone was there with me and I couldn't move to see who or what it was. Everything just felt like it was glued into place, like I'm a doll who could only move when being forced to by a little girl who just wanted to pass time. The something became two things. Then three. Then four. Then five. Who- or whatever this was had it's whole hand on my shoulder and I did not like this one bit. Its slimy, ragged palm just rested on my shoulder for a moment, seeming to make its presence to me well known, and It worked. Oh boy, did it work. I was gonna be able to move again, get out of that area and just at least find a door out of this crap. I didn't want its presence, but what could I do? All I could do was stare out and hope that maybe it was just there to say "Hey, I'm here. I'm gonna go now!" But that wasn't the case at all. It sat there for another minute or two, its slime oozing down my arm, and my fear was actually starting to turn into a mixture of fear and disgust. Before my thoughts could continue, it moved slowly to reach my throat, its long, jagged nails scratching at me as it made its way. The nails felt like knives promising a painful death if I made one small, wrong move.

     As if I could move in the first place. With nails feeling like someone is holding a knife against you, I don't think I would want to move anyway. What good would that do? These nails could easily tear me apart and rip me to shreds if it absolutely wanted to in one single, swift movement. No effort would be necessary for it since I was immobile, quite literally.

      I felt the grip around my neck tighten until I started to lose the ability to breathe. As it tightened, my throat began to burn and my muscles instinctively started to freak out, losing air flow to the brain, which was sending mixed signals to try and keep my body functioning "properly". My vision eventually began to grow hazy and my eyes rolled to the back of my head, everything fading into numbness.

                                                                    ~ * * * ~

      I shot up, gasping for air and instinctively feeling my throat to make sure nothing was really there. I was in immediate relief when I realized I was moving and breathing...and that I didn't die. As I told myself over and over that everything was okay, my breathing slowed to a normal pace. Collecting myself was a small struggle as I was trying to figure out what the heck was choking me in my sleep. Oh well. I thought. I'll figure all of that out later.

      I looked around to gather my bearings, to figure out where exactly it is that I am. The room is small, but not that small. Just decently sized, as you could put it. There were two empty chairs to my right.You would think a relative or someone of that nature would bet sitting in one of those chairs, but they were empty. The counter across from me had a bunch of medical stuff that I had no clue of and honestly? I wanted nothing to do with any of it. The white curtains that were open by the window,allowing the golden glow of sunshine to enter and brighten up the otherwise darkened room. I feel myself smiling as a bird passed by the window, a reminder that I'm not dead or I'm not dreaming. Almost everything in the room was illuminated by the sunlight pouring into the room. The machines I was attached to we certainly not left out of the picture. One I knew immediately was the heart monitor. I had seen it in movies and TV shows and heard it a thousand times. The other machine, though, I was weary of. Of all the most obvious things in life, this was the one thing I had no knowledge of. I don't know if it was because I just never paid enough attention or I just didn't care enough about it, but it was always just a bag of miracle liquid to me. My parents always made fun of me when I would ask what it even does.

      My parents. As I began to wonder what was going on with them and if they were in the same situation I was in, a guy came in with a clipboard, wearing a white coat and blue gloves. He must have been a doctor. Anyone would be foolish to not know that. He set his clipboard down and came over to the heart monitor and the other thing to make sure that were in proper working order. As he did that, I studied his movements, not sure if I should trust him. Something told me I hated hospital and doctors.

      He smiled as he was doing his job. "You feeling any better?"

      Better? I had no clue how to feel or what to think. I remembered going to bed after hanging out with a few of my friends and then all of a sudden, I woke up here. How does anyone expect to feel about that? What am I supposed to think, other than I must have almost died for me to be here? I knew where I was, but why? I came back to my senses and remembered his air-lingering question. "Not unless you consider a splitting headache to be okay." That was partially true. I did have a headache, but it wasn't a splitting one. It was small and somewhat noticeable, but not the way I made it sound.

      The doctor nodded as he noted my behavior, assuming that's what he was noting. I had no idea he had gone back to his clipboard. Are all doctors that swift?

      He came over with his clipboard and sat at the foot of my bed. I sat up to give him some space to sit. As he sat down, he set his clipboard on his lap. "What's your name?"

      That was easy. "Amy." I said. "Amy Irvine."

      The doctor nodded and made note. "When's your birthday?"

      Is he really playing 20 questions with me? He seems way older than I am to be playing that game with me. Weirdo. "May 21st, 1994."

      He made another note. What's with the notes anyway? You would think doctors would already have this information, right? "How old are you?"

      Another easy question. "16."

      The doctor paused for a moment, made another note, then put his clipboard back on the counter. Was he really that surprised I knew my own age? He came back and shook his head at me.

      I was kind of stunned by how he was reacting, like I didn't know my own age. I turn 17 tomorrow. Quit acting like I don't know how old I am. I let my concerned expression do the talking, making it clear that I was oblivious to what had happened.

      "You're 24, Amy."