Twisting Fate Page 6

  "A girl." She gets closer and I can see more of her features. She has beautiful bright green eyes, a small nose and full lips.

  "Do you know this girl?" I keep my eyes closed; scared the vision will slip away if I open them. I shake my head no. "That's okay, keep letting your mind replay its memories." Is it a memory or just something my mind is making up, I wonder?

  She's wearing a silver gown and it appears that she's dancing with me, but who is she? I must have said something to her because she smiles and it takes my breath away. It's like watching a silent movie. She looks happy as she is being twirled around. It has to be by me at the angle and the proximity that I'm watching it from. I pull her in closer and when she looks up at me, I'm hooked. I need to know who she is. Someone that looks like that is unforgettable. "I know her...I have to know her," I whisper as if I'm clearly trying to convince myself.

  I continue to watch as the memory plays for me, trying to find something to grasp onto. Hell, it could just be a figment of my imagination. One hand is on her waist and one is holding her hand. I lean in and whisper something in her ear and when I look up she blushes and giggles. This is cruel, but I can't stop the memory if I wanted to. She looks into my eyes and those green eyes cause something inside me to stir. I have to remember her, because I have a feeling she is important. Then like a punch in the gut I'm caught off guard when she says, "I love you." I heard it in my mind as clear as crystal.

  What do I do? I get mad, really mad. The tray of food beside me gets slung to the ground in my brief loss of control. It's a good thing the doctor was standing on the other side of the bed. "Why can't I remember? How am I supposed to get back home if I can't remember who I am or where I'm from?" I feel like screaming, but what good will it do? This has to be a nightmare. I mentally take note just to rehash to myself the sequence of events so far: horrible accident, almost died, was rescued and brought to another country in which I am now stuck in, cannot remember anything of the previous said events and before.

  "With a brain injury all we can do is wait. There is no way to cure it or speed up the healing process. I'm not going to lie to you and give you a false hope. The brain is not predictable." Her face flashes through my mind again. Why is she the only thing that is coming back to me? What does that mean?

  "Well doctor, then what is your medical determination and what is the plan of care? I need to get out of here and get home." I know I’m being a smartass, but I can’t find the will to care. He looks at the food now scattered across the floor and back at me before raising his brow. Yes, I know I had a moment of lapse in good judgment; move on.

  "I will keep you for a while and monitor your condition. I cannot release you without any family to care for you until I know more of the outcome. I am diagnosing you with retrograde amnesia caused from the accident. You most likely have medial temporal lobe damage, but I want to do more tests to look at your brain now that the swelling has gone down. Sit tight and I'll get everything set up." Does he really think I have that many options of escape?

  He walks to the door and touches the handle, but looks back at me. "You're lucky to be alive. It'll make it easier if you remember that. With the amount of blood you lost, you could have died in the ocean. If they wouldn't have found you when they did, you most likely would have." Amnesia is definitely not something I wanted to hear. I've never heard of anyone with amnesia come out with a good ending, but then again I can’t even remember my name, so what do I know? How can this be better than dying? I am stuck in a hospital in a country I'm not familiar with and have no family or anyone that I know. I am completely alone. Even if I did know someone, I probably wouldn't remember him. What am I going to do if I don't regain my memory? Am I just supposed to stay here?

  He pulls the door open with the clipboard of notes hanging by his side in his other hand. Before he exits there is something I need to ask. "Hey, Doc, what are the chances I will regain my memory?" From the serious demeanor on his face I wouldn't guess it's a very high probability.

  "It's up to your brain and how it heals. You may regain pieces of flashbacks here and there like with the girl, but no relevant information as to whom or what it is and you may remember some vital pieces of information like who you are, your age, or where you're from. There is also the possibility you will remember nothing at all and have to start over building new memories." He says nothing more as he exits the room.

  I place the heels of my hands on my forehead and grab at the hair on my head, pulling it in anger and frustration. I'd rather be dead than to never remember anything of my prior life. What if I had a great life? Even if it was shitty, at least it was mine. I want to get out of this bed, but I'm hooked to IV antibiotics and wires for machines. Maybe if I can get out of this hospital something will strike a memory; something I can grasp onto to find my way home.

  Chapter 5

  Breyson

  I've been in this damned hospital for a few weeks now and I feel like killing myself just to get out. I was given a tennis ball to relieve some of the tension. After being put through one machine after the other my medical status hasn't changed, not one single bit. None of my memories have returned except the occasional flash backs of that same girl. Each time it's something different, but I can never see myself in the visions. It's always like I'm looking through a window. It's become the only thing that keeps me sane in this hellhole.

  I want to find her, but I don't know how. Maybe if I found her I could piece back together the life I left behind. I wonder where people think I am. Did they give up looking, thinking I'm dead? Some days I get more than one flashback in a given day and some days I'm lucky to get one. The days I don't get any flashbacks are the days that inch by slowly and they are mentally incapacitating. It's like my brain is trying hard to tell me something, but it's falling short every time.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed I bounce the ball against the floor. My stitches have been removed and the hair is beginning to grow back over the scar that has formed in their place. I can't take being in this tiny room any longer. I need to get out of here. I feel fine aside from the fact that I remember nothing prior to waking up in this hospital. If I don't get out of here I'm going to go mad.

  I stand and walk towards the tiny window as I do several times a day. There isn't much of a view, but at least it's something. Looking down at the street I see several people scattered around the premises. What I wouldn't give to be some of them right now; free to do as I please. As if my thoughts were voiced out loud the door opens and I can hear footsteps.

  When I turn around it's the same doctor I've come to know pretty well. "Dr. Rodriguez."

  "How are you feeling today, Son?" He calls me son, most likely, because he has no idea what my name is. I guess I should start thinking of a new name, since obviously, I have no idea what mine is.

  "The same way I always feel, Doc. You got any news for me today? I need good news." Another scan of my brain was taken earlier today to see if there have been any changes since the last one.

  He walks over to me and places his hand on my shoulder. "Come sit down, Son." That doesn't sound good. That fatherly gesture that we need to have a talk is always a bad sign. I do as he says and walk over to the bed I've become entirely too familiar with.

  He takes a seat beside me as if we're about to have some kind of heart to heart. We've developed this little relationship over the past few weeks. He stops by to visit regularly during his duties and even some when he’s not scheduled to work. I guess he feels bad I'm alone, even in my own head. "I'm just going to say this and we will discuss it when I finish. Does that sound good?" I nod. It's not like I have much of a choice since I have nowhere to go outside of my hole in the wall room.

  "The scans are the same. There hasn't been a significant change since the first one. You're physically stable, so I can't keep you here anymore. Mentally you may be lost, but physically you can take care of yourself. I'm sure you're ready to get out of here anyway. Medically speaking you're fine and like
I explained to you from day one, I have no way of knowing whether your memory will come back or not. There is still the possibility that it could, but it's something that will be determined with time." What the hell is he saying? What am I supposed to do, wander around like a homeless person?

  I don't think I believe in Karma, but I had to have done something pretty bad to end up like this. At least it would be tolerable if I had people I knew surrounding me to remind me of the things I don't remember. What am I supposed to do completely alone? I feel like breaking down and crying or maybe even ending it all. What difference would it make if everyone already thinks I'm dead? I've processed that thought once or twice, but usually when I do is when I have more flashbacks than the usual occurrence of...her It’s really strange, almost like she is somehow keeping me here.

  "What am I supposed to do? I can’t support myself. I have no money, no clothes, and no place to stay." I may have been sick of this hospital, but at least I had a place to sleep and food to eat.

  "I have no reason to keep you here any longer. The hospital advises against it. I like you and I'm sorry you ended up in this situation, but I want to help you. I have a proposition if you're open to it." He looks at me as if he's just asked me a question and is waiting for me to answer.

  "Do I have a choice?" I search his face for any kind of emotion, but it's blank. He's old enough to be my father, which is why I'm guessing he has become somewhat attached to me.

  "You always have a choice. No one can take away your freedom to make your own choices. You can look at it like crossing a bridge. You want to get back home and that's on the other side from where you stand. What stands between you and the other side is a cliff overlooking a high drop off. The only plausible way for you to get to the other side is to cross a bridge. Discovering who you are is the bridge. When you find the bridge you can cross it, but not a moment before. For now you're lost, and trying to carry on a normal life may help you find your way." I can kick and scream and throw a fit, but none of that will make this any different from what it is.

  The fact is, that I'm stuck and he's willing to help me. "What's your proposition?"

  "I'm glad you're willing to be open minded. I have a friend that raises bulls for bull fighting. It's a large sport here, kind of like football to Americans. He is short handed right now and needs a hand. He provides a place to stay, three regular meals, and pay. I can help you with some clothes to get started. If you carry on maybe something will trigger your memory and it will start to come back or at least enough to get you home." I run my fingers through my hair making a mess of it. It doesn't sound that bad and if it gets me out of here I'll do anything.

  "Only if you let me pay you back for the clothes when I get my first salary. I don't want to be a charity case for anyone." He smirks as if he almost expected me to offer it and stands.

  "I'm going to get you discharged and I will have a nurse bring you some scrubs until we can get you some clothes. He'll be expecting us soon, so we need to get going." He laughs a little and walks for the door.

  "What if I would have said no," I ask teasingly.

  "I figured you would see reason and say yes." I can hear the laughter in his voice as he exits through the door. I really have grown to like him. I hope this isn't the last time I'll see him. He’s the only sense of familiarity that I have here. For the few minutes that he visits, I feel less alone; less like an orphan.

  As I wait on a change of clothes I sit and wonder how my life is going to turn out. The only thing I can do is to make the best of it and hope my memories come back. Maybe if I want it bad enough I can achieve it. This lost feeling is driving me crazy. I’m ready to feel like I have something to do that makes my life worth breathing the oxygen it takes to keep me alive.

  I haven't had a flashback of her today and right now I'd welcome it. I am beginning to live for those brief flashbacks. I may not remember anything else in my life, but there is a reason my brain wants me to see her over and over. Most of the time it's just a look at her in one angle or another, but occasionally it's seems like a memory without any names or relevant information. How do I know it's a memory trying to break free? It's like watching a damn movie of my life from the outside looking in, but on mute and in brief clips cut from the whole reel. It's starting to piss me off, but in turn I'm trying to give myself time, so I don't jinx myself and lose them altogether.

  A nurse walks in and hands me a pair of scrubs to change into. I take it upon myself to walk into the small bathroom to change out of this pathetic hospital gown. Shutting the door I turn on the hot water of the shower, letting the steam fill the tiny room and step in. I place my palms against the wall and let the scorching hot water run down my body. It's hotter than it should be, but it's what I need right now. As the water rains down on my face my mind wanders into the unknown.

  It's her, but this time it's totally different than the other flashbacks. My mind is revealing more and damn, she's naked. I'm in my own personal hell. She's beautiful and she's letting me kiss her. I close my eyes and let myself watch since none of it actually seems familiar. I actually feel like I’m invading someone’s privacy. Her cheeks turn the slightest shade of red as the steam swirls around the large bathroom. My fingers are all in her hair as I kiss her hungrily. It's like I'm addicted and can't get enough. I'm pulling at her bottom lip and sliding my tongue inside her lips, parting them, to locate hers in a game of hide and seek.

  I close in on her, allowing her breasts to rub against my chest and her nipples instantly harden on contact. Walking forward, I back her into the shower until she is standing underneath the water and close the door behind me. I never break free as the water runs around our lips. Placing my fingertips on the side of her face I trail down the silhouette of her body as I continue to devour her lips with mine. Grabbing her hands in mine I back her against the wall, pinning her hands above her head while I kiss down her neck.

  My heart is pounding as I continue to watch one of the most intimate moments. I wish I could actually remember doing this instead of watching it like a movie, but let it play on; I thrive on these. I say something in her ear and watch as her head rolls back against the wall in pleasure. Fuck, why can't I hear what's being said? That could be the key to everything. Grabbing underneath her ass I pick her up and rest her against the wall for support. Reaching down with one hand I grab myself and ease inside her. She grabs on to me, but because I'm only seeing it in my point of view I don't know what she's doing.

  Her legs are bent like her feet are resting on my hips and she is lifting herself, riding me. Damn, was I a lucky son of a bitch or what? Her lips part and begin moving, but of course, I have no idea what she's saying. Her eyes are closed, but she picks her head back up off the wall and opens them looking directly into my eyes. Staring into those green eyes look so familiar, but nothing comes to me as to why. I want to feel her; what it feels like inside her. This is torture. I don't want to watch anymore. I want to experience it first hand. This is just like watching a homemade sex tape, but at least then you remember making it. I want to remember the way she feels, the way she kisses, the way she tastes, and smells.

  I continue to hold her waist to support her, but she is controlling the movements. What I didn't expect to get to see was, what comes next. Her mouth opens and her eyes close in ecstasy as she latches on to my lips with hers. Her movements slow down slightly, so I take over picking up pace. She lets me as her orgasm takes over and she bites my lip. She is beautiful when she comes. It doesn't take long after witnessing that in the vision that I still my movements as well. How am I ever going to live if I don't find her? I have to remember...

  A knock sounds at the door and just like that the vision vanishes back into the vault of my memory bank. "It's Dr. Rodriguez. I'm ready whenever you are." Now back in the present I look down at myself and realize my dick is standing at full attention. I can't deal with this shit right now. Maybe I need a cold shower instead. I right myself and shut off the water before grabbi
ng a towel and drying myself off. Wrapping it around me I step out into the steam filled room.

  "I'll be out in five minutes," I call out and listen as he steps away from the door. Placing my palms on the edge of the sink I look at my reflection in the mirror. I see myself, but nothing is familiar. It's like looking at a stranger, a new canvas ready for paint. My slate is clean, but I don’t want it to be. I bet most people don’t have that thought. Isn’t it usually the opposite, people wanting a chance to start over, righting every wrong? I hang my head between my shoulders. This is my life now, so I might as well accept it and move on. I can't make myself remember and unless someone from home finds out I'm here, I have nothing to go on without a memory.

  ***

  After purchasing me some clothes and toiletries as he promised, we pull into a dirt road that winds left and right for about half a mile. He comes to a halt when we pull up at a property sitting on miles of open land. Doc looks at me and back at the road before him, as I take in my surroundings. There is a large Spanish style house making it impossible to see what lies in the back of the property. "I trust these people with my own kids. I would never leave you in the hands of someone that I didn't trust. I know it's going to take a while for you to get adjusted, but I will check in on you every few days, okay?"

  I look over at him as he glances between the road and me. The serious demeanor on his face tells me he means every word that he says. There is no reason to fret now. If I want to get back home I need to do whatever it takes to get there. "Okay." When he kills the engine we exit the car and begin walking in the direction of the house.

  The door opens and a middle-aged woman with long, silky, black hair walks out onto the porch. She has a young boy trailing behind her. He looks to be about eight or nine. "Samuel, it's good to see you. I hope you are well. Is this the boy?" I look over at Doc as he puts his arm over my shoulder guiding me forward.