The Memory Jar [Zayn Malik]

Chapter 3: Lying

Look guys! I DID manage to update on time after all! :D Now on this chapter...

Frustrating. If I could title my chapters based on how they were to write, that's what this one would be. Now, don't get me wrong, I love writing this story, but as all writers do, I had issues with this one. The first part, I really like, but after that I got so aggravated and rewrote the second half about six different times until I just got fed up with it. I've edited more than usual on that part too, and I'm relatively satisfied with it now so... I hope you guys are too. :) 

(Dedication for making the lovely banner on the side! Thank you! :))

Again, thanks so much for reading, voting, commenting, etc. The amount of support for this story is just mind blowing. Thank you all so much! Now... I present you with Chapter 3! 

Zayn

            “It’s called retrograde amnesia,” Dr. Campbell said seriously, the smile gone from his face now that we were away from Dana.

            “What is that exactly?” I questioned, confused. I had no idea about the technical terms of diseases and injuries. Just like when the ambulance took Dana away, I couldn’t make any sense of what the medical workers were saying.

            Dr. Campbell sighed. “Retrograde amnesia is when someone loses part of their memory prior to a disease or injury. How much of it they lose, depends on, in her case, the severity of the injury.” He paused and looked at his clipboard for a moment. “That fall she took seriously injured parts of her brain, and as you say, it seems to have erased most of her memory before that event.” 

            Dana’s memory is completely gone. She doesn’t know who hit her that night or how she lived life before it. She can’t get thrown back onto the streets like that; she can’t go back out into the world with no memory of her past. That’s like throwing a newborn out and telling it to fend for itself; it won’t survive. 

            “How do we fix it?” I had asked hoarsely, frightened by the thought of Dana back on the streets. For some reason, I felt so protective about this girl I just met. Was it only pity talking?

            “You can try telling her things about life before the accident,” he said. “Tell her who her friends are, her favorite color, what she likes to do in her spare time. That’ll help increase the chance of a spontaneous recovery, which is how most people suffering from this type of amnesia gain their memory back.”

            Too bad I probably know less about her than she knows about herself at this point.

            I glanced back at the closed door to Dana’s room, where she and Niall were probably speaking. For the sake of my plan, I hoped he didn’t tell her too much. The girl already had enough on her mind, what with not remembering anything at all. And if my plan were to work, I had to be able to tell her things before anyone else.

            “I can recommend a woman,” Dr. Campbell was speaking again, pulling a card out of his lab coat pocket and passing it to me. “She’s an amazing psychologist, and she specializes in people suffering from memory loss due to brain injury. I think you would be wise to schedule some sessions with her.” 

            I nod and look at the card.

            Emma Griffiths, the card read in bold, simple letters. Traumatic Amnesia Counseling Psychologist. Underneath that was a list of numbers to contact her for various reasons.