Chapter 3

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I don't know how many days have passed, or perhaps it didn't matter, but today I can finally open my eyes fully. My body feels pain-free. Did I die? No, I'm just healing. However, my moment of relief is short-lived as a stranger enters the room.

"Hello, Miss Parker, you're doing really well. Your body is recovering faster than expected," he says.

Terrified, I ask, "I'm sorry, but who are you? I don't recall meeting you before."

"I'm your doctor, Miss Parker. Dr. Stevenson," he replies.

I'm uncertain if I can trust him. I've never seen or remembered him. "I don't remember you at all. Perhaps it's my head playing tricks on me."

"I understand. It's okay. In fact, I wanted to discuss that with you. While you're improving, we need to run some tests," Dr. Stevenson explains.

"What kind of tests?" I inquire.

"It's a simple visual test with pictures. I promise it won't take long," he assures me.

"Is something wrong with me?" I worry.

"The thing is, you've suffered a brain injury in an area called the right fusiform gyrus. I know the terminology might sound strange," he explains.

Brain injury?! Panic surges through me, my heart racing. "Right fusiform what? Is it serious? Do I have permanent memory loss?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. You will recover. But we need to determine the extent of the damage through these tests," Dr. Stevenson clarifies.

"Alright, I'll do what is necessary. Just please tell me what's going on," I said anxiously.

As we make our way to another room, a nurse smiles at me and says, "Glad to see you, Miss Parker."

I offer a smile in return, although I don't recognize the nurse. We enter a room with a large screen, labelled "Test 1" and a passing score requirement of sixty percent. It seems like some kind of survey.

"Miss Parker, I'm going to show you 40 pictures of different faces. When you recognize a face that has already been shown, press the button in your hand," Dr. Stevenson explains.

"Is this a joke? Why do I need to do such a test? Is it for children? Or my brain dyed completely. I don't have a problem with remembering faces, with names yes, but not with faces" I question, feeling sceptical.

- If your brain would die you wouldn't stand here and talk. So no, it is alive. Let's begin the test," Dr. Stevenson reassures me.

"Alright, I just want to finish it quickly and get back to my room," I responded, eager to move past the test.

Various unfamiliar faces appear on the screen, and I struggle to recognize any of them. After 20 pictures, I finally spotted a woman with big golden earrings. I pressed the button.

"I've seen her already," I announce.

"Good. Keep going," Dr. Stevenson prompts.

More unfamiliar faces appear until the last one, which resembles the woman with the golden earrings. Although unsure if I've seen her before, I recognize her distinct hair and earrings.

With the test completed, no results are displayed on the screen. I find it odd. Will I finally learn what's wrong with my brain?

"Will you tell me what is going on and why I had to take this test?" I ask, my anxiety building.

"Katy will escort you back to your room, and I'll join you later once the report is ready. I promise to explain everything then. Also, it's lunchtime, so you can have some meal until I return," Dr. Stevenson responds.

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