𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 յ: 𝕭𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐-𝖆𝖓𝖉-𝖂𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕸𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖞
"— she's a criminal —"
"— comatose — 13 months — amnesia —"
"— a child nonetheless —"
"— rob a bank —"
"— got killed as they escape —"
"— only one to survive —"
Conversations muffled through the thick wall. I can hear them though. The sound of their heartbeats, the intake of each breath, thoughts, and whispers.
Small but silent whispers.
Pleas. Judgment. Desire.
It was clear as day in my ears.
"— remember?"
Snap.
I blink.
"Oh..." was all I could say when I was asked a question. I don't even know what he was talking about. I wasn't paying attention.
I fiddle with the hem of my hospital gown. The fabric feels prickly and cheap. Red patches glitter my skin, some with scratches and purple bruises.
I wet my lips, biting them before I spoke, "I —" I cleared my throat " I... don't know. Can you repeat the question?"
I hear him sigh helplessly as if I was pulling the last thread of his patience. Perhaps, I was. He had been visiting me here ever since I had awoken from comatose. Constantly asking questions. Questions about a bank robbery that I have been involved with before the incident and then... amnesia.
"You seem to be experiencing amnesia which leads to losing quite a few of your memories" — or so the doctor says.
He snaps his fingers, bringing my mind back to the present for the second time that day.
There was a big frown on his face, eyes glaring as he repeat to say, " The bank robbery. What was the last thing you remember?"
Oh, that question.
I intertwine my fingers together as they lay on my lap, taking my time answering as if I was deliberately thinking hard.
"I — don't know" I try to sound as if I was confused. Furrowing my eyebrows together and my forehead creased as if I really was. "I can't remember"
I like to imagine that I had fooled him but the way his eyes narrowed as a set of skepticism settles on his face, I know I have failed.
"I ask again. This time, answer honestly," he said in a serious tone. "What was the last thing you remember?
I want you to think and remember exactly what happened."
He stares me in the eye. I stared back.
Remembering... Searching...
Bank Robbery...
Money...
Blank.
Paused.
"Well?"
"I... don't understand"
I could feel my heart drumming against my ribcage. Blood rushed through my ears.
I try to remember. Rummaging through my memories. Searching and searching and searching, but all I came up with is blank. There's a void in my memories. A space — An empty space.
"I don't understand" my vision is glassy as I look at him, tears threatening to spill. I know he could hear the confusion and the slight edge of hysteria in my voice as I asks, "W-Why can't I remember some of my memories?"
"I can't remember about the bank robbery. I don't remember m-most of my childhood. All I know about my name is that I'm N-Neo. I'm forgetting things!" my sniffles were covered by my hands. "Why can't I remember?"
"Miss..." his face remains stern but his voice sounds slightly softer. "Perhaps, I should call the doctor?"
His gaze intently searches for any expression out of place or movement that seems suspicious, but I don't care.
I'm confused and scared.
With his suggestions, I immediately agree. Yes, the doctor could help. He could help me.
He gave one last inquiring glance before he turn on his heels, twist the doorknob, and closed the door behind him.
The moment the door close, a moment of silence covers the entire four corners of the room. I listen to the sound of his footsteps, slowly fading away as the distance increases until he was too far away for me to hear him. The corner of my lips lifted into an amusing smile. Gone with the tears and sniffling, the confusion and fear were wiped clean from my face.
"Sh-t, even I almost fooled myself!" I laughed.
Forget the amnesia, I'm fine. I'm more impressed with my acting skills. To be able to fool an investigator who had a lifetime of experience was an amazing feat in itself.
"Damn. I should have been an actress"
ꗢ
"You seem to be fine" Doctor Risse declares. "Don't worry. This loss of memories is temporary. Most selective and dissociative patients have their memories eventually return. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes suddenly. Overall, a good outlook."
I faintly smile, "Thank you doc"
"Doctor, how long does it take before she remembers her missing memories?" Investigator Gricans asks from where he stood, near the door.
"Hypothetically speaking, in a few days. Perhaps, next month or several years," the doctor let out a sigh. "To be honest, Detective. This all depends on the patient as well as time."
"So, it could take ten years then?" he sounds bitter.
"This involves the brain. There could be consequences if we force the mind to remember when it's not yet fully recovered from the trauma. Amnesia takes a lot of time and patients, Detective."
"Then w —" he stops before glancing at me and realizing I was already watching both of them, clearly listening.
I lift my left eyebrow at him, silently urging him to continue. Instead, he pursed his lips into a thin line. A clear demonstration of shutting his mouth before looking away, arms crossed on his chest. I stop the urge to click my tongue in disappointment. It was a pity, it was getting to the best part.
He clears his throat, albeit awkwardly. "I'll be outside," he says and closes the door behind him.
"Don't worry..." the doctor's voice was soft and soothing as if chasing my worries away. "Your memories will come back. Not today, but eventually they will."
Oh, Doctor Risse, if only you knew.