Identity - Chapter 1. Memory

I was dead.1

That was the only appropriate explanation for the pain I felt now. There was something else, though. How did I die? I didn't remember. Was this what happened when you died? You forgot, so the haunts of your past wouldn't follow you in the afterlife? That seemed silly. You spend your whole life filling yourself with memories; what purpose would that serve if you simply forgot them all once your heart ceased to beat? 2

What a downer. 3

But with death, shouldn't pain cease to exist? I though death was the only escape from pain. And I was increasingly uncomfortable. Death was supposed to be simple, easy, peaceful. Not like this. 4

What if this is hell? The panicked thought flitted across my mind for half a second. 5

No, I deduced, that wasn't right. True, I was uncomfortable but I could feel that I was lying on something soft. Hell surely wouldn't provide luxuries such as that. Also, somewhere, off in the distance, an irritating beeping noise sounded at regular intervals. So this... place couldn't be hell.6

Impossible. I concluded to myself, still confused.7

Then what was it? If I wasn't dead... then where was I? I wondered if I could open my eyes.8

My lids managed to flutter open after a few dozen failed attempts, and I found myself staring up at a blindingly bright ceiling. Now that I listened, I could tell that the beeping was much closer than I'd originally thought. I tried turning my head to see where the annoying noise was coming from, but both my neck and the back of my head screamed in protest. Wincing, I laid my head back on the pillow, sliding my eyes to the side instead. 9

There was a problem. It was like a pane of stained glass covered my vision; blurring it, making it hard to see. I blinked, wondering if my eyes were tired from... sleep? Or was that not the right term for the state of unconsciousness I'd apparently been in? 10

Blinking proved to be useless, so I began raising my arm to rub my eyes, wondering if there was some sort of foreign debris blocking my vision. As I lifted my arm, something tugged it in the opposite direction. It felt as if it was made of lead. I let my arm drop back into place, wincing again as something sent a sharp pang of agony down my arm. 11

My hands felt the soft, pliable... thing underneath me. I panicked as I became aware that I didn't remember the word for it. I thought for a moment, wrinkling my forehead in protest as I couldn't spit out the word. Suddenly the word appeared in my thoughts, and I sighed, content: mattress. 12

Next, I felt the thin, itchy... blanket — I supplied the word after a moment of struggling again — that was draped over me. My movement was extremely limited as I tried to turn over; my back was sore. How long had I been in this position? But as I tried to move, something sticking out of my hand refused to let me move. 13

I saw, then, that my entire forearm was covered in white. This confused me; was it some type of clothing? No, that wasn't it. My eyes slid to my right arm; I found the same thing there. Underneath the strange white, my skin throbbed with each heartbeat. I noticed now, too, how painful my head was. Like someone was pounding a hammer inside my thoughts. Each irritating beep was like an explosion. 14

My thoughts supplied the word, finally, and I understood. Gauze. No wonder the pain was so fierce. I looked down, finding that my right leg was bound in a tan, leathery looking... bandage. I raised my right arm, finding that it was free of wires and tubes, and softly touched my head. I found injuries there, too, along with a lump that must've been the cause of the intense pain in my head. 15

My heartrate sped as fear overcame my quiet observing; what happened to me? What was wrong? How did this happen? The beeping noise increased in tempo as my heart thrummed hyperactively in my chest, protesting against my ribs, no doubt. I tried to sit up, but was unsuccessful to so much as get my head off the... pillow. 16

Why couldn't I remember anything? I thought in terror as I flopped back down onto the bed. The fuzzy words were coming more clearly now, though most of them came on their own. At least not all was lost. But could I speak? I wasn't sure I remembered how. It felt like it had been a long while since words came from my lips. 17

Within my hazy panic came another sound. Closer, and yet quieter, less annoying than the stupid machine. I recalled it was a heart monitor. Well, at least I was alive. Something approached my bed, something covered in white. 18

Not something I suddenly realized. Someone. Someone wearing a white coat of some kind. I looked at what he held in his hands: a clipboard. There was a badge of some type clipped to his coat pocket, most likely identifying him as... well, him. 19

Suddenly, his eyes rose to my face, and he staggered back, obviously surprised to find me staring back at him. He blinked twice and shook his head slightly, as if he wondered if he were imagining it. This insulted me for some reason, so my eyes searched the room, and I found myself staring out the glass wall. The blinds were pulled to one side, and I could see a sign over the counter where a very bored looking woman sat.20

Intensive Care.21

What? I was in... in a Hospital? Something definitely wasn't right here. The man, whom I presumed was the doctor, cleared his throat before he spoke.22

"Well now, isn't this a surprise." He said quietly, as if he knew of the ache in my head. "I was coming in to check and see if you were still alive, and look what I find!"23

Still alive?