Chapter 2

285 8 0
                                    

Liza's POV
Dragging my IV like luggage, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. I leaned forward, inspecting the reflection. My eyes were dark brown. I had a small nose. And I guessed I'd be pretty if it weren't for all the bruises. I walked back into my room and attempted to get back in the bed.

"What do you mean, she has no memory  of anything?" I heard a woman's voice.

"She has a complex concussion, which affected her memory" I heard Dr. Weston explain. "The memory loss should be temporary, but-"

"But what?" Asked a man. I know I heard his voice before. We had a conversation. That conversation floated into my thoughts.

"I really wish you wouldn't spend so much time with that girl. She's nothing but trouble, and I don't like the way you act around her" it was his voice. The man, I didn't recognize and there was nothing else associated with him.

"The memory loss could be permanent." Dr. Weston cleared his throat.

"So it's just her memory that's a problem?" A woman asked

"Yes, but it's not a simple case amnesia" the doctor said.

Who are those people? And why are they here? I caught bits and pieces of the doctors was saying. He said something about suffering a concussion. It was complicated.

"I don't understand" I heard the woman say.

"It's basically like typing something on your computer then you save the file, but you can't remember where you saved it" Dr. Weston explained.

"The file is there, but you just have to find it" I sat back on the bed wondering where's that file? Was it lost in my thoughts? Or was it gone forever?
-
Then the door swung open. Walked in a brown haired woman. "Oh, Liza" I stared. Liza? Was that my name? She came closer, wrapping her arms around me.
"I'm so happy you're okay" I didn't hug her back. I didn't know who she was.

"This is Jackie and Joe koshy, your parents." "My name is Liza?" "Yes, but your real name is Elizabeth. Your friends like to call you Liza." The woman answered.

I liked the name Liza. My mom or the woman placed her hand on my cheek and stared at me.

"You really don't recognize us?" I shook my head.

"No...I'm sorry." She backed away from the bed and faced towards the doctor.

"How can she not know us?" Asked the woman

"Mrs. Koshy, you just need to give her some time" He then turned to me. "You're doing great" he gave me a nice smile.

He turned back and faced my parents. "We want to keep her under observation for an extra day. She really needs to get a lot of rest and reassurance." I looked at the man. He was staring at me. Dad. Father. Complete stranger.

"Do you think this can be permanent?" The man asked.

"It's too soon to tell" Dr. Weston responded.

The doctor had left the room and the man and woman stayed in my room. She brushed her fingers over my wrist.

"I remember the first and last time we had to take you to the hospital. You were ten. See this?" I looked down at me wrist. The was a white scar running right under the palm of my hand. I hadn't noticed that before.

"You broke your wrist during dance practice." I looked down at my wrist and looked up, our eyes met.

"It was pretty bad. You had to get surgery." My mom said.

"you were showing us your cool dance move, that involved one of those handstand things" I'm pretty sure she meant a cart wheel.

"your dance instructor told you not to do it but you did anyways" the man eyes met mine.

"You don't remember anything?" I felt a rush of anger and disappointment.

"I want to remember, I really do, but..." my voice cracked. "I don't remember. My mom forced a smile. I know she was disappointed like my father. She placed her had on my lap.

"It's okay. Mason has been really worried. Your brother" brother? I had a brother?

"And all you friends have been searching for you and hanging flyers." She continued. "Isn't that right joe?" My father nodded.

"Alex has been good but he spent day and night looking for you." Alex? Who is Alex?

"He wanted to come up with us, but we thought it would be best if he stayed behind." I frowned.

"Alex?"

Don't look back [ ON HOLD ]Where stories live. Discover now