Miles away from Damien's apartment, in a sterile room at City General Hospital, Sarah Walker lay in a cast, her mind a swirling vortex of confusion and pain. She had just woken up, having been unconscious since the ambulance took her to the hospital.
She remembered the crash, the blinding lights, the sickening crunch of metal. But everything before that… a blank.
A kind-faced nurse entered to check her vitals and found Sarah's eyes open. "Oh, Miss Walker, you're awake! I'll get the doctor immediately," the nurse said, rushing out.
Soon after, Dr. Miller approached the bedside. He was grave but reassuring. "Welcome back, Miss Walker. I'm Dr. Miller. I need you to stay calm. You've been in a serious car accident."
"Why can't I remember anything before the accident?" she cried out in desperation.
The doctor sat down. "It's common with a head trauma like yours. You have what we call retrograde amnesia. You haven't lost the ability to form new memories, just the memory of who you were before the crash. It will return gradually; you need to be patient with yourself."
She then asked, "But how can I be patient when I don't even know who I am? Do I have a family? Do I have a job? Is there anything important I was supposed to be doing? How did I get into the accident?" She then turned to look at the doctor and exhaled, saying, "I'm scared..."
Dr. Miller took her medical record. "From what we found, your name is Sarah Walker, you're twenty-six years old, and you're one of our blood donors. You've been donating blood to the hospital since you were eighteen—almost a decade, Miss Walker. And that tells me you're a good person. Also, here it's stated that you have a family, you're not married, a non-smoker, you don't drink nor do drugs, and have no previous history of illness."
Sarah: "You know a lot about me, doctor," she smiled weakly. "So Sarah Walker... is my name. It feels kind of foreign."
Nurse: "Yes, Miss Walker, that's your name. You're actually a hero; your blood has saved many lives. My colleague drew your blood several times, but this is my first time meeting you. You are exactly as she describes you. Pretty and kind."
Sarah managed a weak smile. She then read the nurse's name and said, "Thank you, Brenda." "Do you think I'll remember who I am soon?"
Doctor Miller was looking at Sarah with sympathy. "You need to focus on your recovery first," Dr. Miller stressed. "You suffered a severe fracture to your leg—my colleague Dr. Ramirez removed the piece of metal from your leg last night. You had surgery to insert plates and screws, which is why your leg is in that full cast. You must not attempt to move or stand on your own. You need complete bed rest for now."
Sarah tried to shift, but the pain and the dead weight of the cast terrified her. "I can't feel my leg! How long will I be like this?" she had fear written all over her pale face. Nurse Brenda was looking at her with sadness and sympathy.
"We need to keep you here for at least a month to monitor your recovery and manage physical therapy, as well as the head trauma," the doctor explained. "Eat well, sleep well, take your medication on time, and focus on being grateful for surviving."
Sarah then stopped him, her voice low. "Doctor? And the man that was next to me in the car?"
The nurse gently intervened. "I'm sorry, Sarah... Your friend Ethan hadn't survived."
Sarah: "My friend... Ethan?" Friend? Boyfriend? Did I love him? Why can't I feel anything when I hear his name? A month... trapped here until I remember. I lost my memories, but he lost everything. Did I cause the crash? "Who was he, who am I?" The questions swirled in her mind, unanswered and terrifying.
The nurse added, "The hospital has already notified your family members using contact info found on your previous medical records. They will be able to answer some of your questions."
Then a woman with a carefully crafted air of concern knocked and entered the room. "Sarah?" she asked, her voice laced with what sounded like false sympathy. "Are you okay?"
Sarah looked up, her brow furrowed. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice weak and confused.
"I'm Chloe, your sister," she replied, offering a strained smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her voice immediately took on a dramatic, worried tone. "Oh, thank God! Mom and I have been beside ourselves with worry since the police called us. We didn't know what to think."
Sarah stared at her, searching for a flicker of recognition. The name "Chloe" didn't even register a tiny bit. "I spoke with the doctor; he says you have amnesia," Chloe said, her voice a little too perfect. Sarah just nodded. Chloe's presence, though seemingly comforting, sent a shiver of unease down Sarah's spine. She couldn't explain it, but something about the woman felt… wrong.
Sarah pressed her, trying to grasp any thread of her past. "Tell me about us, then. We're sisters—were we close?"
Chloe moved closer, her voice thick with feigned sincerity. "Oh, darling, we were inseparable! The best of friends. You, me, and Mom—we're a very close, loving family. That's why this is so hard."
"And my father?" Sarah asked, remembering the emptiness she felt.
Chloe's face clouded over with a well-rehearsed sadness. "Our father passed away when you were nineteen. It was sudden, and it devastated us. It's part of what made the three of us so dependent on each other."
"What about Ethan?" Sarah asked, hoping the name would spark something. "Who was he to me?"
Chloe's expression hardened for a moment before she quickly covered it with sympathy. "Ethan Evans. He was... a good friend. Just a close friend from work. We'll tell you all about him later."
Chloe then dropped the bag she was carrying on the small table next to the bed and said, "I've brought you your favourite fruits; let me peel an apple for you." As the blade flashed under the fluorescent light, Chloe turned to Sarah, her smile oddly fixed. "Do you really not remember anything before the accident?" Sarah, acutely aware of the knife in her hand, replied, "No... I can't remember..."
After peeling the apple, Chloe went outside and called her mother, Caroline, and invited her over. "Mom, she doesn't remember anything. We're safe... for now. Just stick to the story."
Half an hour later, another woman entered her hospital room, her features similar to Chloe's but a bit older. She carried herself with an arrogant grace and dignity. She approached her bed and took her hand. "My dear, how are you feeling? Chloe told me everything. Don't worry, we'll take good care of you."
Sarah asked, "Who are you?"
The woman's face crumpled, and she let out a dry, theatrical sob. "I'm your mother, darling. Don't you remember me?" The performance felt fake, a practiced act of grief.
"I'm sorry," Sarah said, a quiet sadness in her voice. "I don't remember." She's my mother. Why does it feel like I'm lying to her? Why don't I trust her? If we were so close, why do they feel like strangers?
Chloe moved to her mother, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, Mom, give her time. She will remember you. Don't be sad." The words were meant to be comforting, but they sounded like a rehearsed line, adding to the feeling that she was a stranger in her own life, surrounded by people she didn't know and couldn't trust.
Soon after, Dr. Miller came in to check up on Sarah, with the nurse following closely. The nurse then notified both Caroline and Chloe that it was time to leave because the visitation hours were over and the patient needs to rest now.
After they left, the doctor checked her head, changed the bandage, and the nurse gave her the medication. Sarah fell asleep.
She had an unusual dream: she was walking down a small path somewhere through the woods, running away because something was chasing her, but her legs were weak and she fell down. As she fell, she saw Ethan's dead face covered with leaves next to her and got terrified. She tried getting up and walking again but she kept falling until a man showed up. She didn't see his face because he was in the shade, but he had reached out for her hand. She gave him her hand, and then he took her into his arms and started walking while carrying her. She felt safe—she thought, I didn't have this feeling in a long time. She asked where they were going and he said, "Home, Sarah, we're going home." The words were a deep, comforting certainty, a feeling of belonging she hadn't known she missed. Then she looked at his arm... His arm was bleeding, and she screamed, saying, "You're bleeding!" but he kept walking and carrying her.
She woke up from her dream, sweating profoundly. It took her a while to come back to reality from this dream she had. She was crying... Who was that man in my dream? Where's home?
Nurse Brenda entered the room a few minutes later and saw her looking distressed, red, and disorientated. She came closer, placed her hand on her head, and realized that she had a high fever. She quickly administered medication to reduce the fever. Soon after, exhausted by the fear and the lingering fever, Sarah fell back into a restless sleep.