“The machine is showing a change in brain activity. I think, just think, she might be coming round.”
The sound of hustle and bustle echoed quietly throughout the room and a persistent beeping sound caused my eyes to open. The room was white. So incredibly white. The walls seemed to be padded and the air carried that lingering antiseptic smell like a hospital. 5 faces, all covered by surgical masks, peered down at me and I stared back just as hardly.
“Can someone tell me what is going on?!” I screamed and I clenched my fists ready to hurl them in whichever direction was needed.
But a familiar tension held me back. As soon as I tried to lift my arms, they seemed to just slam back down again by some imaginary force.
My eyes widened and I craned my neck down to look at my hospital gowned body, restricted by those sort of asylum like rope holds that kept me permanently chained to this bed. Anger boiled inside me, churning and brewing and festering like a pile of rotten goat’s cheese in the woods. Just looking at these 5 faces staring down at me, like I was some sort of experiment, frustrated me to the point of insanity. Unwilling to hold back any longer, I let rip. No more inhibitions for Hannah Moriati.
“I WANT ANSWERS NOW!!!” I shrieked, watching in pleasure as all 5 of them jumped away from the bed like it was a plague.
“I assure you Megan, no harm is being done” a small one said, their identity hidden by the mask. It took a few seconds for the words to really sink in and for it to hit home that they said something that was seriously wrong.
Megan?
Who the heck is Megan? I’m Hannah Rosaline Moriati!”
“You were Hannah Rosaline Moriati. Now, you’re Megan Chivonsky and Dr Morgan-Smith will soon be here to talk to you about your transition to your new life” they continued on hastily whilst playing with their glove-coloured hands.
All five of them stood there, waiting for a reaction that was never going to come. How can I react to that? ‘Transition to your new life’? New life?!
“I want to see him now” I mustered quietly, lying limp on the hospital bed. From previous experiences, struggling only gives them ammunition to stick a needle with God knows what into you. And I don’t want to black out for a third time.
A series of shuffling and a swinging door later, and a figure blocked the only sense of outside light coming into the room. A dark shadow fell over me and I craned my neck to look at the tall man staring down at me. He said nothing as he slowly strode over to my bedside, reaching over and holding the strap around my ankle.
“If I untie you from this bed, can I guarantee you will not try to escape? Again? Because if so, my five assistants are more than happy to make you go under again. We’ve wasted enough time already, I will feel nothing if we waste more” he clipped dryly, his hand wavering over my ankle.
A fierce desire for freedom took its hold over me and after looking at the assistants, needles in hand; I thought better of trying to escape and instead nodded meekly. The doctor, who I’m guessing is Dr Morgan-Smith, raised one eyebrow sceptically.
“What was that?” he asked sarcastically, still allowing his hand to linger above the strap.
“I won’t try to escape” I said through gritted teeth, keeping my eyes on the strap the whole time. With that, he unclipped it and I dragged my leg away somewhat slowly away from him. Methodically, he carried on releasing me, until I found myself hugging my knees in the papery thin hospital gown.
“Better?”
“Much.”
He snapped his fingers and a particularly pathetic looking assistant; the smallest there in fact, rushed to grab the nearest swivel chair and slid it over to him. I had to hold the urge to roll my eyes. Who does he think he is God’s gift to all of humanity? Yeah, not really. He sat down and took on a very boyish sitting position, legs apart, feet planted to the ground.
His trousers hitched up a bit when he sat and his white gown thing gave nothing away about his physical structure. He was just tall. His eyes, a dark brown, seemed to hold no emotion whatsoever and his short, spiky blonde hair made him look quite young. Too young to be a doctor anyway. His face was clean shaven and it seemed like one eyebrow was always slightly raised, like he was always ready to spout some sarcastic remark. Looks like I found my match.
“I’m Dr Morgan-Smith.”
“No kidding Sherlock” I say, spotting the small nametag on his gown that clearly stated who he was. “What am I doing here?”
He chuckled lightly before an assistant automatically came over and handed him a small file. He passed it to me and I grabbed it, slowly opening the white plastic folder. Whenever folders come out, you know something is about to go down.
“You, Hannah dear, are here for many reasons. First of all, you are going to be someone else. Megan Chivonsky to be exact. Second, you will be assigned a series of tasks and third, you will contribute towards the biggest heist of the century.”
As soon as he said I was going to be someone else, I felt the folders drop onto my bed whilst I looked at him in awe. What does he mean by that? What heist? What do these tasks entail? I blinked several times before I felt the first tears of confusion irritate my eyes persistently. I don’t want to be someone else. I want to be with my mum and my dad…
Wait.
“Where are my parents!?” I shouted suddenly, causing them to step back cautiously. Tears streamed down my cheeks as hysteria caused me to laugh uncontrollably. This is amazing! My parents!
“How can you get me to do all that stuff when my parents are probably paying thousands for everyone in the country to try and find me!? I’m a flipping ginger for goodness sakes, they aren’t easy to find!” I shrieked, as tears still streamed down my cheeks.
I stood up on the bed and laughed at Dr Morgan-Smith. Take that! I’m bloody Hannah Moriati, aspiring actor! My face is sometimes in the magazines and I’ve been to places. People know who I am!
“Your plan failed buddy boy” I drawled in my best southern accent before jumping and dropping on the bed, landing perfectly in a cross-legged position on the bed. I held my arms in front of me and raised an eyebrow at Dr Morgan-Smith. All my inhibitions went out the window as I drew my hair back from my face.
“Now if you excuse me, I advise you get me home now. There will be a big reward, I can guarantee that!” I scoffed whilst waiting patiently. Dr Morgan-Smith took one look at me and called one of his assistants over.
“Put in her file that she isn’t good in interrogation situations. We’ll go over it later” he whispered quite loudly as the person nodded and scuttled out of the room. He then turned to me and smiled graciously.
"Hannah, I think you’ll find you’re already home. You’ve been home for 6 days now. You know, you didn’t get back on the first day because you went to a sleepover at Mary-Ann’s house, and then you came straight home.”
I blinked. “What?”
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Stolen Identity
Misterio / Suspenso'You'd like to think you are sure of yourself. You know who you are, what you like, your interests and your dislikes. Your identity is more than just what it says it is. It's your token to life and acceptance in some cases. And then that's taken awa...
