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Chapter One
Doctor…something…was trying to explain what had happened. He wasn’t doing a very good job. My mind was still blank and no one knew how I was still alive. Tabula Rosa. I giggled for a moment and the doctor looked at me in a funny way for a second then went back to talking. Tabula Rosa, that’s what my mind was, a blank state. Well, my memories anyway.
From what he told me, I had been in a fire. It was the smoke inhalation that did me in. I was waiting for him to tell me about myself. To give me a name. He looked at me and asked me if I had remembered anything. I told him I hadn’t and eagerly waited for him to give my identity, He did. Sort of.
‘Dana.’
I have a name. I was so happy that I missed the other things he said. He waited until I calmed myself down to restart.
Apparently I was seventeen and a runaway. I hadn’t been home in three years. He then told me that he would be contacting my parents. He left the room. I was alone again.
I walked back to that hateful mirror to look at her. To look at me.
As I walked in front of it, she came into view. That strange, alien looking girl. Me. I tried to give her my name. I tried to give me my name. It didn’t fit.
I should be feeling happiness and relief at having a name. I felt nothing. How could that be my name? It had to belong to someone else, not me. It had to be a mistake. Yes, a mistake.
But I knew that wasn’t true.
Just as my temper began to flare up, the doctor came back in. I made my way over to the bed. I needed to hear what he had to say. After that I could relax. I could meditate. That would relax me.
Meditate! Where did that come from? I barely even know what meditation is, yet alone how to do it.
I looked over to where the doctor had taken a seat. He looked so calm. I wanted to strangle whatever he knew out of him. I needed to know who I was. I needed to be her. I needed to be the girl in the papers, in the mirror. I need to be me.
The doctor, unfortunately, didn’t here my silent plea. Instead of telling me what I wanted to know, he told me about the procedures the hospital would be taking for my ‘special case’. I really wanted to hit him.
“How do you feel?” It was the first question that didn’t directly ask about my broken memory. I told him I felt fine. A little dizzy and tired, but fine.
…And empty…
“Are you sure?” I think he wants something to be wrong. Damn doctors. “I would think the smoke inhalation would have damaged your throat.” As I said before, damn doctors.
He’s right though; my throat shouldn’t feel fine. It would be too strange if it didn’t hurt at least a little. It would also lead to too many questions, so I lie. “It f-feels a little strange.” He looks satisfied with himself and says he’ll have a nurse bring me some pills. Yet again, damn doctors.
I don’t want any though. I’m fine. I A-M F-I-N-E. As crazy as that may sound, it’s true. I don’t want any of those doctors to bother with my ‘case’ or me. I don’t want anyone told about me. I don’t want my family to know. If I ran away, there must be a reason for it.
And then I made up my mind. I was going to leave this place. I felt too vulnerable. As I continued with my plans, I suddenly remembered-the pills. Something I don’t want or need.
I better hurry or I’ll end up taking them. Without thinking, I jumped back into bed and feigned sleep. The door opens a minute or so after. A nurse walks over to me in an attempt to wake me up. I’m aware of everything, and suddenly, I’m not. I wake up hours after the sun has set.
I am aware of two things. One: I want something, and two: my feet are heading towards the door.
_________________
For all those words of tongue and pen, the saddest are those: "It might have been."
Tara ended up next to Oz in the elevator. He looked at her, nodding to himself.
"What?" She asked.
"You look good. Kinda radiant."
Tara nodded. "I was resurrected a few days ago."
Oz arched an eyebrow. "That'll do it."
-Dark Congress
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