Memories Of A Witness

Chapter One

Monday, April 25. The day Megan Maxwell was born again.

Colorless walls were surrounding her, an oxygen mask on her face, and doctors rushing in. She remembered it vividly. She couldn't move and confusion swamped her. They had asked her questions, but her brain felt like it was full of cobwebs and fog. She didn't know who she was or where she was.

The next few days had been a blur. She had spent the days in a hospital bed, unable to leave it. She felt lethargic and immensely feeble. A feeding tube was in her nose, she couldn't feel her legs. A man had visited her not long after she had woken up,  told her she was her father. A scrub of raven hair, a broad range of chest, and a craggy face that looked as dead as a doornail. Primarily he was ecstatic about her waking up from a one year long coma. Crying, and muttering how happy he was to finally have someone beside him again and that it was OK for her to lose her memory. He reassured her no to worry about anything and that they would work together to recover it. Megan had nodded and so they did. 

Her father, Victor, came with family albums, her old books and games and everyday it was something new. He had showed her a picture of a redheaded woman holding a preschooler, who was presumably her. Then he flipped to a picture with two or three unrecognizable people laughing sweetly at the camera. He pointed at the girl in the middle. "That's you." She was tanned, had a lean toned body and her cheek bones were high and prominent. Her big hazel eyes were staring back at her. It was as if she wasn't staring at herself but at a complete stranger and it galvanized her to ask, "why am I here?" 

Megan recalled the freeze in his movements. He had floundered a bit, his face becoming morose. "A car accident happened."

She had a feeling he was lying to her. Because he would ask her every week if she remembered something. If she shook her head, his face would fall. If she said she remembered about her school days a bit-- just to make him feel better, his face would fall regardless. As if he was searching something in her bygone memories. And the way he never let her watch TV,  read newspapers or allowed visitors only seemed  fishier. 

Though no matter how many times Megan had tried to remember something, nothing came up. It was as if there was this big empty gap that cried out to be filled and it was horrible. She kept poking, trying to figure out what had happened, asking herself how could she not know. She saw pictures of herself and her friends on a daily basis and she couldn't recognize anyone at all. No connection, no recognition. It was like a tooth that had been pulled and she couldn't help feeling for the empty socket.

Strangely, there was also a day when an officer paid her a visit. However, it wasn't long, since had he only asked her if she remembered something about the day of the accident. Megan said no and he left immediately, giving her no time to ask him further questions.

When she had finally left the hospital, after many months, Megan went to inpatient physical and cognitive rehab. The coma engendered her legs to become paralyzed. At first, she wasn't even able to sit upright, without falling out of her wheelchair. But after she had mastered to control her upper body, she had to learn to walk again. The times when she fell onto the ground,  made her feel exasperated and seeing people walk around her effortlessly, only exacerbated her anger. She was  vexed at whatever had scourged her. The more the days passed, the more aggrieved she became. Then she had to learn simple math and memorization. Luckily, they weren't as hard as the physical rehab.

Megan had left rehab and went on to live with her father.

Presently, she was sitting in a car, and watched the peaceful neighborhood in front of her pass.

"Ashborne", her father had said. "You were born and raised in this small town. Remember this."

Houses had been separated with yards large enough to fit a whole campus and the homes were colossal and grandiose bordered by trees and hills. The streets and side walks were almost empty, giving it almost a ghost like appearance. It had never occurred to Megan that she came from a well-to-do family.