Amnesiac

A story a wrote for a competition my youth group goes to. I feel like it's a bit rushed. I had severe writer's block while writing it. :/ Nonetheless, please enjoy. :)

I am submerged in darkness.

Am I dead? Is this what death is? Surely not. It can’t be this way...

I open my eyes to the blinding fluorescent lights of a plain, white hospital room. An IV runs out of my right arm, all bruised with some tiny scratches. My left arm is bandaged and hurts like...some sort animal has taken a bite of me with teeth made of fire. My head is pounding, my eyes sting, my throat is dry and sore. I swallow my spit, yet the pain still remains. Undulled, incessant. My mind, my memory is fogging. Something happened to me. But, what? A faint memory of laughing, then screaming and honking, then crying floods my ears.

I need to remember.

I need to remember that night.

The night of the crash.

I reach for the call button, laid meticulously at my bedside. Pressing the red button with my index finger, I lean back on my pillow, my breathing fast and heavy.  A few moments pass until a nurse comes in: a young, blonde haired lady not many years older than myself.

“Your usual nurse, Ms. Griffy, just left work for the day, so I will be your nurse tonight,” she smiled sweetly, “I’m Ms.Wendall; is there anything I can get you?”

“Um,” I cleared my throat, feeling very sore, “could you get me some paper and...a-a pencil?”

“Certainly,” Ms.Wendall leaves the room.

Minutes pass.

She returns, notepad tucked under one arm and a bright red pen tucked behind her ear. She hands them off to me and bites her lip, “I know they’re not exactly what you wanted…”

“They’ll do just fine,” I finish. Ms.Wendall pulls the over-bed table closer to me so that I can use it as a desk.

“Need anything else?” she asks, standing straight up with remarkable posture.

“No, thanks.”

“I’ll be by to check on you in a little bit,” Ms.Wendall announces before leaving the room, carefully shutting the door behind her.

Staring down at the notepad, I take the pen in my hand.

Writing is my deepest love, my greatest love tried-and-true. Writing has never failed me before, so why would it do so now? Surely, writing would help me to remember something. Anything.

Click.

The point of the pen shoots out. Shakily, I guide the pen to the paper, never removing my eyes from the writing utensil.

My eyes flutter open and there is pain. So much pain. And blood. Blood all around me. I am in an ambulance. There are people over me -- EMTs -- and a breathing mask is secured on my face.

“She’s awake!” one exclaims, “stop compressions!”

“Where am I….what happened?”

“You were in a car accident,” the same EMT reassured, “you and your friends are being brought to the hospital.”

A car accident...my friends. There’s more. There has to more. Where are these friends now? Who even are they?

A nurse walks into the room. She is different than the one who gave me the notepad and pen: older, shorter, with a mean, gruff look on her face. She introduces herself as Ms. Griffy and she shoves a cup of water and two painkillers into my open hand.

“Where are my friends?” I ask. She says nothing, but sighs.

“Where are my friends…?” I ask a second time.

“Take your pills,” she insists.

“Not before you tell me where they are...Halley Meere, Olivia Bry--”

“Take your pills and I’ll tell you.”

I gulp them down within seconds, “now, where are they?”

Silence.

“Where are they? You said you’d tell me!”

Silence.

“You’re a liar! Tell me! Tell me, please!”

“Calm down, Miss Rose,”

Tears run down my cheeks. I try to sit up to address her, but the pain is too great and I fall back down onto the bed, “Calm down!? How can I--” I pause, realizing in that moment the reason for her silence.

“They’re dead aren’t they?”

Ms. Griffy nods subtly, but sadly.

“When?”

No answer.

“I know too much already, another won’t hurt any more than what I already know.”

“Noah Stillemen was gone before the ambulance reached the hospital, Olive Bryer before the EMTs arrived.”

“And Halley Meere?”

She starts towards the door, “I have other patients.”

“What about Halley? What happened to her!?” I cry.

Ms. Griffy exits the room, leaving me crying and alone.

I lift the pen of the paper. Somehow, my eyes are dry. Surely, I should be sad right now. These people, these kids, were my friends. But, my memory makes them merely strangers to me. There has to be more to the story.

We’re sitting in a pew, in a church. A crucifix stands beside the pulpit at the front. A girl with strawberry blonde hair and rosy red cheeks, dressed in a royal blue dress, sits to my right, a cleanly shaven, brown haired boy in a white-buttoned up shirt and black dress pants sitting next to her. To my left, there sits a girl with red hair in two braids, in a pale purple dress and white cardigan. She notices me looking at her, “Is something wrong?”

“N-no,” I stutter, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’re about to cry…”

“I guess I can’t hide anything from you, can I, Halley?”

“Nope,” she smiles supportingly.

“I’ll tell you after church,”

My memory skips like a show on fast forward until the four of us are alone in the church after the service.

“...I know it’s stupid…”

Halley hugs my close, as the blonde girl pats my arm. The brown-haired boy shakes his head, “it’s not stupid.”

“It’s anything but stupid,” the blonde girl adds.

“Thanks, Noah, Livy.”

“I guess I never thought much of it...until now,” Halley pulls away, “ but, I guess, what am I waiting for?”

“Baptism is a big choice,” Olivia comments which provokes Noah to add, “one that deals with eternal life.”

“But, I believe that Jesus is the Son of  God and, judging by your belief in eternal life….I think you do to.”

“Hal…” Olivia starts.

“Wait,” Halley stops her, “answer this question: do you believe that Jesus is the Son of God?”

“Halley, you know my answer…”

“Then say it. Maybe I’ve forgotten.”

Olivia sighs, “Yes,” she stands, “yes, Halley, I believe in Christ.” she turns away from the three of us. Halley turns to Noah, “do you?”

“Huh?” Noah looks at her for a moment, “Absolutely. I don’t understand why you’re asking!”

“Because we’re sitting here, in church, as unbaptized believers: we could die tomorrow and we wouldn’t go to Heaven....”

“Halley, we’re seventeen!” Olivia turns back to face her, “we have our whole lives ahead of us!”

“And what if we don’t!? Prom is tomorrow, isn’t it? Some people make foolish decisions on prom night. Foolish decisions that cost others their lives.” she stands, bringing herself to Olivia’s level.

“You don’t seriously suggest…?”

“It’s possible…”

Tears begin to flow down Olivia’s cheeks. Halley address me, “I want to be baptized.”

“There’s nobody her--” I start to explain before she cuts me off, “call someone.”

I carefully remove my phone from my pocket, delving into my list of conflicts to call somebody, anybody from church. While on the phone with an elder, Noah speaks up.

“Include me in that too,” he pauses and clicks his tongue, “I want to baptized too.”

“Me too,” adds Olivia drying the tears from her eyes.

Knock, knock, knock.

A soft rapping at the door snaps me out of my memories.

Click.

In one swift movement, I put the pen beside the journal and push the over-bed table to the side.

“Come in,” I say weakly, briefly forgetting that my throat is still sore.

On cue, two middle-aged people -- a man and a woman enter the room. The woman rushes to the chair by my bedside and sits. It is here where I notice the neatly wrapped box tucked under her left arm. The man stands at the foot of my bed.

“Baby,” the woman pats my bandaged arm, which causes a burning pain to shoot up into my shoulder. I must have shown it on my face as the woman quickly removes her hand and uses it to cover her heart. “Do you know who I am?”

I don’t know her, but judging by her eagerness, I can make a good guess, “Mom?”

“Oh, she remembers!” my mom places her hand over mine, this time ever-so-gently, “see, Philip, I knew she’d remember us!” My mom begins chattering excitedly.

I can barely listen.

I cut through her chatter, “what day is it?”

“Why, Wednesday,” she looks confused, “why do you ask?”

“What day was the accident?”

“Tuesday...I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at….”

“What day were Halley, Olivia, and Noah baptized?”

“Sunday. Two days before…”

“So, they’re saved?”

“Well, I’d assume so.”

“Good,” my eyelids feel heavy, “I’m tired.”

“You can sleep,” she looks at my dad, “we’ll just sit with you for a little bit.”

I close my eyes. I am submerged in darkness.

“Mom?”

“Yes, baby?”

“God is the greatest love of all.”

“He is, indeed,” with that, I feel her lips press against the top of my head before a fall into a deep slumber.