The ceiling of the room is white. The lights, they're bright.
A dull pain flows through my head. I raise my right arm, and a sharp sensation stings.
Several wires appear in my line of sight, and they seem to be patched in my skin. There's a clip that's attached to the middle finger of my right arm. I follow their trail, and it leads to the cold apparatus on the same side.
Beep... Beep...
The quiet sound it produces is so faint that I feel light-headed. I embrace the darkness.
Beep... Beep...
What happened to me?
Beep... Beep.....
Why am I here?
Beep... Beep...
What is this place?
Beep... Beep...
Who am—! A tingling sensation suddenly runs down the back of my head. In a blink, it becomes a hot throbbing pain.
I open my eyes. The white ceiling greets me again. W-what is this pain? Why does my body hurt so much? What happened to me? Who... what's my name?
Thump
I hear a wooden sound. Looking on my right, there's a man at the door. The top of his head shines as the light strikes upon it, his black eyeglasses cling tightly to his enormous face, and the stethoscope around his neck looks short compared to his round torso. Behind him stands a woman in blue attire holding a folder.
The doctor creeps to my bed. Coming closer, he shudders with narrowed eyes.
"You're awake."
He turns his head to the nurse. As if understanding him, the nurse leans to the apparatus and moves her hand in the folder. Then, she walks beside me.
She gazes at my arms. Again, the pen in her hand starts moving, and when it stops, she gives it to the doctor.
"This is good."
He staggers toward me. "How are you feeling?"
"M— ehem, ehem, ehem."
My throat feels itchy and hot, and my voice is strained.
"Oh. Cille, please give him water."
"Yes, doc." she rushes outside.
"Don't worry. Your throat is dry because you haven't drunk any liquids since you're admitted, but you're not dehydrated."
Even though I want to speak, I can only nod.
"Many questions may arise, but please be calm. You're in safe hands. This is a hospital."
After a while, the nurse returns.
"Please sit down," he says.
I put my weight onto my arms to support my body, but the pain prevents me from doing so.
"Here, let us help you."
They place their hands on my shoulders and on my waist. In a synchronized manner, they lift me from the bed, and I become seated. My back rests against the pillow.
The nurse feeds me water. Each gulp I take stings the back of my throat. I try not to make any expression.
"Are you feeling any better now?" the doctor asks.
"Y-yes. Thank you." I sound dry.
"How are you feeling?"
"My body hurts whenever I try to move it."
"I see. Apart from that, do you experience anything else?"
"There's a dull ache in my head. When I try to think of something, it suddenly becomes sharp."
He bobs his head.
"Doc?"
"Yes? What's it?"
"What happened to me?"
"Ah. You're from an accident. The trauma you received must have caused the pain in your body and your memory loss."
"Accident?" and memory loss?
"Erm... I don't want to shock you, but I think that you really need to know."
"Please tell me."
"So this was what happened, you're on a field trip at Subic Bay. Suddenly, a bomb was dropped at your location, and the explosion caused your admission to this hospital. You've been here for a month and a half already."
A sensation that's similar to what I felt earlier flows on the back of my head. I wince.
"I'm sorry. For now, just take a rest while we inform your parents that you've regained consciousness."
"Ok."
The nurse does another inspection. She checks the wires on the apparatus and takes a look at my hand. After that, they leave the room.
Turning to the curtain reminds me I forgot to ask the time, and also my name! Now, I'm left alone with unanswered questions again.
I roam sight with minimal movement. A flat-screen TV is mounted on the wall. Beside my bed is a desk where a remote control lies, and I reach for it. The pain attacks, but I try not to mind.
The screen flashes an entertainment show. There's a man in his early 50s singing an unfamiliar song while female dancers in their early 20s have surrounded him as they're dancing. He grinds his body to the dancers. My stomach churns. This is disgusting. I turn the TV off and close my eyes.
Click
Is it the door?
Tall in the plain olive blouse and black trousers, wearing a platinum blonde bob, shows a young woman at the doorframe. Her gaze falls on me. Suddenly, her blank expression changes to a teary-eyed one.
"Matt!"
The plastic bags in her hands fall to the floor. Afterward, she hurries at me.
"It's good to see you awake," she says, enclosing me in a hug.
Her hands are warm.
"I'm really shocked when I heard the news about the incident," she adds.
This is comfortable.
"Matt?" her voice calls to my attention.
"Oh. Yeah."
I shake my head. "I'm sorry. Who are you?"
She widens her eyes. "Hey, are you alright? Maybe I should call the doctor?"
"No. It's fine. They're just here a few moments ago."
A shallow smile appears on her face.
"You don't remember who I am?"
"Y-yeah. I'm sorry."
"No. Don't apologize, but are you sure you're fine?"
"The doctor said earlier that I acquired memory loss. He wasn't sure either, but said it was only natural because of the trauma."
"I'm Anne."
"You're my sister, right?"
"What?" she breaks into laughter. "No. I'm your stepmom."
Stepmom?
She's my stepmom at this age?
I glance away.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I'm your stepmother. And your name is Isaiah Matthew Cruz."
"That's a long name."
"But people call you Matt."
Oh, that's why she called me that earlier.
"How are you feeling? Aren't you hungry?"
"I am."
"Alright then. Let me peel some fruits." she stops. "Where are those?"
She looks around the room, her head goes to the door. There, the plastic bags she brought have scattered on the floor.
She raises her eyebrows. "How did they end up there?"
My stepmom picks up the bags. She tears the plastic of sliced fruits arranged in a plastic container.
The apple leaves a sweet taste in my mouth, which pushes me to remember another feeling. This taste is familiar. It's weird.
I turn my head to the side where my stepmom is sitting. "Thank you."
"How are you feeling now?" she asks.
"My body hurts whenever I try to move it."
"That's bad. But it's only natural. The doctors informed us about that except for the memory loss." she keeps in separating the oranges. "Are you aware of what happened to you?"
"The doctor told me what happened when I ask."
She gazes at me. "I have something to tell you. You won't be able to go home until next month because you need to take therapy sessions to regain motion."
"So, I should be staying here in 2 months' time then."
"Right. And also, you won't be able to return to school. The time you'll be discharged here is the first week of April. That's the closing ceremony."
"It can't be helped. It's for the better."