Forget-me-not

Cynthia

I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. 

The simple string of words became a constant phrase in Cynthia's vocabulary. Her head was empty no matter how hard she tried to remember. The textbooks full of memories had been removed. Someone came in and deep cleaned and, during that process, they took everything. 

There were a wide variety of tests Cynthia went through. Questions about the past. Questions about the future. She was placed on a bed and moved into a large machine. She was placed on another table and another machine overhead captured images of her head. 

At some point, she stopped paying attention to all the procedures and just let the doctors do what they needed to do. All the medical terminology was beginning to hurt her head. Even with more pain medication, the headache never seemed to go away. 

The red-headed woman, Flora, kept following her around from a safe distance away. Occasionally, she asked Cynthia some questions. For the most part, she was quiet. She kept observing everything happening silently. 

Everywhere the doctors led her, the walls were painted beige. The place was sucking out what little life she had inside of her. It was beginning to feel less like a hospital and more like a prison. Medical staff had half their faces covered. All they kept doing was asking questions and giving her commands. 

Wherever she went, squeaking followed. A nurse pushed along a metal IV tree behind her. A clear colored bag of liquid hung from a metal hook. A clear tube was taped onto her forearm that led up into the bag. The doctor explained the medicine she was receiving right now was a painkiller. Apparently, she had a blood clot in her brain when she first arrived, but after a round of specific medicine, it dissolved. 

When they finally got back to the room, the nurse pushed the IV tree back into its usual spot. The nurse left her alone with Flora. Cynthia stayed quiet as she slipped back into the bed. She slid beneath the sheet and pulled it up over her body. 

Exhaustion clung to every part of her. The sudden movement after being in bed for three days had taken a toll. Her head hit the pillow and she let out a sigh of relief. A smile tugged at Flora while she watched Cynthia. She sat back in the chair beside her bed. 

"How do you feel?" 

"Tired." 

"Are you going to get some sleep?" 

"I'm going to try." 

"That's good," Flora nodded. She sat back in the padded chair and let herself relax too. "You could use all the sleep you can get." 

"I guess so." Cynthia glanced over and her eyes met Flora's. "Can I ask you something?" 

"Go ahead." 

"Why aren't my parents here?" 

The smile on Flora's face began to fade. Out of all the questions she was expecting, this wasn't one of them. She sucked in a sharp breath trying to figure out the best way to explain everything to Cynthia. 

"Or siblings? Do I have those? If I do, why aren't they here?" Her eyes searched Flora's face for a hint of an answer. 

"Well, that's a simple answer. You don't have any siblings. You're an only child." 

"Really?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"So what about my parents?" 

"I'm not sure if I should tell you this or not. I don't want to get you all worked up. You already said you're tired, so I-" 

"Just tell me. Whatever it is, I can handle it." Cynthia pushed herself, so she could sit up. "Do they dislike me or something? I have the right to know. They're my parents." 

"A few years ago," Flora paused for a moment. "It was about four years ago, I believe. Your parents went out for a date night and um..." 

"Oh." A frown came onto Cynthia's face. "They're dead, aren't they?" Her voice held zero emotion. 

"It was a drunk driver and there was nothing they could do. I can reassure you that their deaths were instant. They didn't feel any pain because it happened so quickly." 

Cynthia's headache began to increase. The dull sensation turned into a sharp stabbing pain. She ignored it and continued to ask questions. "Did I get along with them?" 

"You loved them." 

"And did they love me?" 

"With everything they had." 

Her eyes went down to the floor. Flora stayed quiet while she watched. She was hoping Cynthia didn't ask for details. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to explain the specifics without crying. Cynthia's parents were lovely people. She interacted with them when she stayed at Cynthia's house for sleepovers. 

A semi-truck driver had been drinking. Both parties were going fast when the semi-truck driver became disoriented and swerved. Cynthia's parents' car slammed into the front flat face of the semi-truck. The seat-belts didn't have much of an effect. The impact was too much for their silver sedan. 

Hitting the semi-truck was like hitting a brick wall. Her parents were thrown forward as the car compacted. To add further insult to injury, the car behind them didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. Their car slammed into the back and the car crunched like a tin can. 

That driver was able to escape with a critical injury, but Cynthia's parents didn't have a choice. The sudden impact sent them directly into shock and then unconsciousness. They were thrown into the grim reaper's outstretched arms with no warning. The whole thing was over in less than ten seconds. 

"Are you alright?" Flora asked Cynthia. "I know it's a lot." 

She shrugged, "it's impossible to miss the people you can't remember." She tugged the blankets up to her chin and shifted to lay down facing the other direction. A lump sat in her throat and her eyes went glossy. She shut her eyes and tried not to think too much about it, but it didn't help. 

Even if she couldn't remember her parents and she didn't know the exact details, their deaths still hurt.