Night Lily

1: The Color of the Sky

 Lema's eyes skipped over the carnage.  

The town was aflame, the houses trampled, people screaming and dying and fainting...

***

It was a good book.  Short and entertaining.  All Lema had time to read at the moment.  It kind of fueled that dark, brooding side that she couldn't show around the others. 

Lema stood from the park bench, sighing.  For a brief moment, she looked over at the young man sitting on the bench on the other side of the park.  Then she shook her head and walked away, eyes glued to the pavement.   The sky was blue, not a cloud in sight, but she didn't notice.

***

That was the day she forgot everything.

***

HONK!  Lema looked up from the sidewalk in time only to see the blurry, red lights of the pickup swerving off the road towards her.  It was almost like a warning...but then again, not.  Because if someone was trying murder her, they wouldn't warn her, would they? 

HONK!  This time, Lema did not hear.

Black was the color of the sky, thoughts faded to nothing.

***

"Can you hear me?"  No.  She could not hear him.  "Miss, can you hear me?"  No.  She could not.

***

She wasn't in the park anymore.  She wasn't on the sidewalk.  She wasn't on lying on the street, unable to move, body dashed against the concrete. 

Where was she?

____ sat up and felt surprisingly well rested.  Her mind felt calm, empty – like a perfectly quiet lake.  In fact, her mind was completely empty.            

"What is my name?" ____ said aloud.  She was alone in the room.  A few moments later, a doctor walked in.  "Miss, you're awake!"        

It wasn't funny.  But she laughed anyway, for a reason that not long ago would have been significant.  "Where am I?" 

"In a hospital.  You've been badly injured."         

For the first time, ____ looked down to see the bandages around her arms.  And the bruises that hugged her skin in more places than she could count.  She stood brazenly, locking her eyes on the doctor.  And she chose the question that was demanding her attention the most.   "What," ____ practically whispered, "is my name?"        

The young man shook his head.  "I do not know."

*** 

No one had seen the accident.  There was no license plate to search for, no footprints to track, no face to match...          

And ____ couldn't remember.  The doctors said her brain's memory center had been irreparably damaged; they said she was lucky to be alive.  If she had fallen a couple degrees to the other side, she would have been completely paralyzed.  She was definitely lucky to be alive.    

But ____ didn't know what it was to be alive.  She could not remember what her life was.

She didn't let them keep her in the hospital overnight.  She could walk, she could talk, right?  But she couldn't remember.  And so she asked the paramedics where they had found her.    And then: "No identification at all?" 

They shook their heads.  "All you had with you was a leather jacket...and this book." 

____ took her things with hesitation, and put the coat on.  "I'm leaving," she announced.  "Thanks for your help...tell me if you find anything on the driver."  The doctors didn't protest as she walked briskly out the doors.   When ____ stepped out of the large, double glass doors, she stood absolutely still for a couple minutes, taking in the world.  The sky was gray, with large clouds rolling in over the city's horizon.

Then she continued on her business-like walk towards the nearby park.  Muscle memory made her automatically reach into the inside of her coat; her fingers found a pocket sewn into a seam near the zipper.  ____ pulled out a small card.  On it was a minuscule magnifying class and a name.  She stared for a while, considering it, then nodded. 

"Lema." 

The world was deaf to her realization, and Lema kept walking down the street, tucking the business card back into her pocket.