Glitter On My Heart ~ Part Two

A touch, a caress; an overwhelming rush of feeling. Beautiful eyes gazing down, impossibly perfect eyes graced upon the face of a familiar stranger. Movement. Darkness. Lips, limbs, skin... heat. And suddenly pain, and with it... regret.1

I wake up, my heart pounding, drenched in sweat. What was that? A memory or simply a dream? I pinch myself, sharply on the skin between my thumb and forefinger. It wakes me up a bit more, the remnants of the dream quickly fading. 2

Sighing, I glance at the clock beside me: 2:56... am. I have gotten no sleep at all this week. Dreams, nightmares, and memories haunting my sleep. It makes me wish I was still in a coma. I fiddle with the plastic bracelet on my wrist: Raeanne Grace Kinsley. Trauma. They still consider me a trauma patient I guess. But there is nothing wrong with me anymore. The seizures stopped five days ago. My muscles are not nearly as atrophied as some people they let go. The only thing is... my memory. 3

My parents and the doctors have told me the whole story. I had been driving home from something or other at school, and it was late at night. This all seemed crazy to me of course. One. I was driving. Two. I was going to Allen Prep. Three. I was staying late at school. Anyway, I was driving and I had crashed into a tree, a big tree. How one just crashes into a tree, I do not know. They say I was drinking. But I don't drink. It seemed impossible, ridiculous. I wouldn't believe any of this if it wasn't for one thing. I'm different. 4

My memory of myself is a nerdy eighth grader who had no chance in the world of getting anywhere in life. Now, from what I have heard, I am a blossoming socialite junior in high school with high hopes for the future. I had never thought I would be a butterfly. Not only am I different on the inside, but the outside as well. My hair is in a different style, highlighted even. I have to wear glasses or contacts in order to see anything clearly. And my body... well let's just say I'm bigger in a fortunate spot.5

The doctors say I have posttraumatic retrograde amnesia. This means I have forgotten memories from before the accident. Most people lose only a few hours or maybe a month of memory, but for some reason I was a lucky one, I lost two years. The strange thing is, I haven't lost any of my academic knowledge, only memories of people and places. It's weird to know something and not know how or where I learned it. I don't know who my physics teacher was, but I know all about forces and such. I don't know what English teacher made me read that book, but I know the story from back to front. 6

Completely functional, I've heard them say, but a sad case. 7

I glance around the dark room, taking in the hospital paraphernalia for what seems to be the billionth time. The stark white walls, the tightly shuttered windows, and the abundance of flowers from people I can't even remember. After the incident with Lorie and Tania my mother stopped letting people see me, unless she knew for sure I would recognize them. It made sense at first, but now that I know what's wrong with me, I wouldn't mind seeing these people who are apparently concerned about me. 8

If only they'd let me out, or at least let me change out of the horrid hospital gown. I'm perfectly fine now, why do I have to wear a scanty piece of linen? It makes no sense, nothing makes sense anymore. I brush away the beginning of a tear and turn over, trying to fall asleep again. But it's no use; they'll be no sleeping again tonight. 9

Remembering something from earlier, I reach over to the table beside my bed and pull the laptop that was sitting there over to my bed. My father had brought it yesterday morning, but I haven't had a chance to use it because of the incessant testing. I had forgotten it until now, since I'm not used to having one. 10

I power it up and click on the internet icon, hoping there is wireless internet in the hospital. Hoping that there is still such a thing as wireless internet. Thankfully, there is, and the homepage loads. The homepage is something that I've never seen before, a website called... Facebook. There is a log in section in the corner, asking for my e-mail and password. Crossing my fingers I type in the last e-mail address I remember using and my common password, hoping that they are still in use by the new older me. 11

Oddly enough, I do still use both, and the Facebook homepage loads, opening me up to a world of new things. I scavenge the website like a fierce and hungry wolf. My friends from middle school are on here, my supposed new friends from high school. This Facebook is a godsend. 12

I click on my own profile, curious now. The picture is one of Lorie, the girl who claims to be my best friend, and myself laughing at something or other. We look like we're having fun; I wish I could remember that fun. I scroll down to read what people have written to me. There are many notes wishing me well and hoping I come back soon. It had been about three weeks now since they'd seen me, only one of those weeks I had been in a coma. It scares me to see the amount of people I know but don't know. There is so much to regain, if I ever can.13

As I scan there are a few posts among the standard "Get better!" and "Miss you!" messages that stand out to me.14

Theo Greilly – "rae baby im sorry bout wat happened 2 u i didnt want 2 get u that upset didnt know ud get so angry o smthn. u really shudnt take me so seriously. lorie told me to write this threatening me u know... well remember wat I said. get better i guess." 15

It seems as though this guy knows me well, especially if he calls me baby and Lorie told him to message me. I don't like him already, but I wonder what he may have said that made him think he upset me. Could he be a... boyfriend? I shake the thought out of my head as it tries to click down as a known fact. I ignore it, I couldn't have a boyfriend, I just couldn't. Especially one with such bad typing skills. 16

Lorie Stead-Wilder – "I'm glad I got to see you before your mom closed doors. Everyone misses you here. Come back to us soon, both physically and everything else. I'm keeping what we talked about secret, as I'm sure you would wish it to be. Not letting Tania speak either. Hope you read this sometime so you know. You can't believe how much I miss you Sunshine. ~ Story"17

Lorie again. I'm beginning to really like her, even if I only remember meeting her once. She calls herself "Story" here. Seems to be another inside joke... Like the monster joke...18

Heather Smith – "this is what happens when you leave us Rae! i don't know all the details, but i heard that you hurt yourself bad. whenever you're up and at 'em again we're going to have to have that long planned reunion! how long has it been? a year since i've seen you? too long! ruthie misses you too. call me when you get this!"19

Heather! She did write to me! But it seems as though she doesn't know much of the real story. Gosh, we haven't met in a long time either. Thankfully, it still sounds like she misses me.20

Geneviève Pierpont – "RAEANNE!!!! is it true u lost ur memory????????? i herd frm sum people who herd from sme people bout it. ahahaha. why am I asking u this???? u wont remembr me if its tru."21

Something about this girl sparks my memory. But not in a good way. An annoying ditzy nuisance is what she sounds like from this message. A hidden enemy? Or maybe even a flat out rivalry?22

Teddy Baber – "Rae, please get better soon. And... I'm sorry."23

I stop with this one, I can't go any further. This boy, there is something about him. Even with the little he wrote... Teddy Baber... I click on his profile and view his profile picture. A simple one of him sitting on the end of a boat in a lake. But those eyes, those beautiful eyes, I can't keep my own off them. 24

Teddy Baber... could he be that boy from my dreams?25