AllFreeNovel
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I’m afraid of where I fall, but I’m more afraid to ask how long I’ve been in the hospital. Farrow—the more I inspect him, the more he’s the same but different in a way. I can’t pinpoint why other than I’m still half-asleep.
“So this isn’t a dream?” I ask while he refills my water. “Because it feels an awful lot like a dream.” The fuzziness, especially. Like my brain hasn’t fullyawakenedyet. Fear clings to me like too tight plastic wrap around my head. What if I can never wake up? What if I’m stuck floating through a haze forever?
“It’s not a dream,” Farrow assures. He stands, grabs an electronic tablet from the wall, then returns to the stool. “I’m going to ask you some questions. You up for that?”
My eyes sting, too dry. I blink a few more times. “I guess.” I scan the room. “What about my mom and dad? Can I see them?”Are they okay? Why aren’t they here?
“You can see them after you’re evaluated,” Farrow says. I suppose that if I can’t see my family right now, Farrow is the next best option. He’s a person I’d choose to be with me.
“You’re the one evaluating me?” I ask hopefully, but also a little puzzled. “Nobody else?”
He nods. “Right now, it’s just me.” He reaches out and takes my hand.
I inhale, exhale. His tattoos are so beautiful. I look around the room again. The drapes are too beige, but I recognize the Stars Hollow gazebo on the TV screen. Some network must be airingGilmore Girlsreruns. Soft beeps emit from the heart monitor, and I focus on Farrow, about to ask him why I’m at the hospital.
But bits and pieces of information float around my brain.
Head injury. Something like that?
I fell, I think.
I don’t ask.
I try and think hard about the injury. But nothing pops in my head.
Except for the mental image of a room. Not one in the hospital. This looks more like a home. Drab with scuffed floorboards and old floral wallpaper. It’s a weird image, barely even a memory. Feels more like a movie I once saw and not somewhere I’ve been.
In all the fics I’ve ever written, I don’t think I’ve ever penned a story with amnesia. Then again, would I even remember if I did?
* * *
“What’s your name?”Farrow asks the first question.
“Luna Hale.” I use the remote to prop myself even higher. He’s already asked about my pain levels again, and I feel a little less run over. Likely, I’m being pumped full of meds, and I’m not complaining. The baby blue hospital gown swallows my frame, and I stay underneath the white blankets. The tubes and wires on my body aren’t annoying me as much as my foggy mind.
I touch strands of my light brown hair. Green…ribbon? When did I tie ribbon in my hair?
Farrow types on the skinny keyboard of the tablet. I wish I had X-ray vision to see if I’m on the right track. At least I know who I am.
Right?
Riiiight?
Okay, what if I’mnotLuna Hale? What if she’s a famous pop singer, and I woke up believing I’m her. Uhhhh, that sounds like a total nightmare.
I grimace and slouch a little.
I’m starting to hate my imagination.
“When were you born?” he asks question number two.
“November thirtieth.” I include the year after Farrow asks for it, and again…he scribbles.Please do not fail this, Luna.I pick at my thumbnail and watch him type. He could just be checking off correct answers too.
“Where do you live?” he asks.
“Philly,” I answer and try lifting myself a bit more. Strength, come to me! I’ve never been great with upper-body activities, but this shouldn’t be so tough. My arms are jelly.
“You want to sit up higher?” He reaches for the remote.
