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I try to run away, but his legs are faster than mine. I’m tumbling to the ground as he wraps his arms around me—not in a gentle way, but one that presses into my skin and stops me from breathing.
I can’t breathe. I need air. Someone help me. Please.
I try to fight his hands again, even though my strength is failing, and my elbow hits the side, giving me an out to race to the door.
Ouch.
My eyes fly open immediately, and I find myself on the floor. I quickly reach my feet and realize I’m in an unfamiliar place, wearing a blue gown. Paranoia sets in as I remember bits and bits of the dream, and I hurry to the door, hoping to get out and escape before someone comes along. As soon as my hand touches the doorknob, it flies open, and I’m knocked backward,my face shielded by the instinctual response of my hands that hit the ground first.
“Oh!” I hear a concerned voice say, then someone tries to help me from the floor. I shove their hand away, scrambling to my feet.
When I stand, I see that the person who opened the door is a doctor—coat and all. He’s looking at me with worry written on his face, and I frown.
Why is a doctor here? Is he—are they planning to do something to me?
“Are you okay?” he asks. “You should be in bed. We took out the IV because your vitals seemed fine this afternoon, but I’m afraid that your body still needs a lot of rest.”
Panic clogs my throat as I try to make sense of what is happening. The only thing I have is the dream, and all I remember is running and hoping that the man wouldn’t catch me. That I would get out of the house in time.
“What—why am I here? What did you put in my body? What did you do to me?” I ask rapid-fire questions at the doctor as I see that there is no way of escape because he’s standing in front of the door.
He’s also considerably larger than my petite frame, and save for kicking, scratching, and biting, there is no way I’m getting past him.
“What did you do to me!?”
“Nothing,” he replies quickly. “You were brought here last night. Unconscious. The man who brought you said you were in the middle of the road, standing and shaking in the pouring rain. You were unconscious when he arrived, so we had to observe you for the night. Why—” his eyes narrow, “would you think I was going to hurt you?”
“I—” I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I can’t tell him about the dream because that is all it is—a dream.
The doctor moves closer, and I take a step back.
“Don’t!” I yell. “Don’t take another step!”
He raises both hands, lifting his clipboard in the air. “Alright. I’m not coming closer. I just need to know why you’d think I want to harm you. Did anyone try to hurt you? Is that why you were in the middle of a busy road during that terrible weather? You had no means of identification on you, so we couldn’t tell where you came from.”
Where did I come from? “What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
The doctor drops his hands. “Let’s start simple. What is your name? Did you come to Silver Peak alone?”
My name?
“My name is—”
Blank.
Nothing.
Not a single shred of information in my brain on what my name is. If not my name, then did I come here alone? I try to remember anything, but my mind is blank, like a clean slate.
What is going on!?
I begin hyperventilating as realization dawns like a heavy boulder dropped on my chest. I have no idea what my name is, and I don’t know where I came from or literally anything else. With wide eyes, I look at the doctor.
“I don’t know my name! I don’t know my name! I don’t know where I came from. I don’t know anything!”
“Calm down,” he says and tries to reach for me, but I violently lurch backward.
“Don’t,” I shake my head, wondering where all the oxygen suddenly went. My hands clutch the neck of the blue gown, and I pull on it, trying to get some air.
