Dear Kennedy

Kennedy's Point-of-View

"Good news, Kennedy!" My nurse, Jackie, exclaimed as she came strolling into my room for my daily evaluation. 

"You've finally contacted a family member? No more vanilla pudding? I'm going home?" I asked with a spark of hope in each question.

"Not yet. Sadly, no. And, that is what I was coming to talk to you about. You are healthy enough to be released tomorrow morning!" She smiled at me. 

My lips curved into a smile, and I felt the happiest I've been in the past four months. She sat down on my bed and wrapped her arms around me. I've grown to like Jackie, unlike half of the hospital staff here. It could be because she is so understanding, or because she gets on a personal level with each patient she helps. With Jackie, I actually felt like I had a friend, and I wasn't the poor girl who was lost in her memory, due to an almost-fatal plane crash. 

She continued to ramble on, as she continued my evaluation. She checked my blood pressure, pulse rate, temperature, and the rest of my vital signs. Within ten minutes, she was out of my room and back to going from room to room. 

I peeled the thin blanket from my body and crossed the room, to the window I had become fond of during my stay here. I stared down at the same scenery that hasn't changed in the past year or so. Little kids were running around the playground, with playful smiles etched on their faces; wives and husbands were pushing their spouses around in their wheelchair for a bit a fresh air.

The happiness pinged at my heart. It's been seven months, since I woke up from the coma I had been in. No one has been here to see me, yet. The hospital was and still is unable to contact any family member. I've needed a shoulder to lean on, but right now, I have nothing. 

_____

I sat in the wheelchair, with my one bag sitting in my lap. I was dressed in a pair of clothes that had been donated, and they fit loosely on my body. 

I should be happy. I'm finally going home, but I don't know what to feel. There's a gap; something's missing. I'm alone. I have no one to help me get back on my feet. I'm all by myself, in this vast world. 

The last thing I remember was being 20 years old, living in my dorm with my high school best friend. I was on the university's soccer team. I had the most amazing group of friends, and a loving boyfriend who loved me. Now, I'm twenty-five, jobless, and unable to contact anyone in my family; mediate and extended. It's not something I'm exactly calm about. 

The elevator doors opened, and I was face to face with the garage of the hospital- a scene that was new to me. As a patient in the ICU for so long, I couldn't even leave my own bed. 

Jackie was pushing my wheelchair over to a car, where someone else on the hospital staff would be driving me back and helping me get settled in, as I had no one to come pick me up. Normally, it would be very generous of them, but this is something they're required to do for patients like me. 

The woman dressed in scrubs came to my aid and helped me get into the car. She took the one bag I had and set it in the back. She then returned to the driver's seat and waited. Jackie, with tears forming in her eyes, was holding a large envelope in her fingers. 

She took my hand, and whispered, "Kennedy, this is for you. These are letters. You can't read them all at once; you must read them according to their numbers, starting with the letter named, "Kennedy". Someone is looking out for you, Kennedy. You are not alone. There's someone who loves you just as much as I do; there's someone who cares." 

I looked at her with a confused look, as she shut the door. The car started, and we drove off. I had thousands of questions flood into my mind, which gave me a massive headache.

_____

I gripped the paper in my hands and frowned. I turned it over, in hopes to fine more, but the page was as blank as my memory. 

Just moments before I left the hospital, I was given a large, manila envelope. Inside it, was more envelopes. I was instructed to not tamper with them, until I was home. I then was told to read the letter labeled "Kennedy".

Now, I am standing in what is said to be my apartment. The atmosphere was unrecognizable, which makes almost too much sense, as I've lost so many years of my memory. 

I returned my undivided attention to the letter addressed to me, from a man named Sawyer, who claims to be my boyfriend. Half of me wants to believe this is some sick, twisted joke. But, the other half wants to believe that there's someone out there; someone out there fighting to help me regain my memory. 

A/N

So here is chapter one, everyone! I am actually very proud of this chapter. It has taken me literally forever to write, and it's done! I know it's extremely short, but I don't think the upcoming chapters will be as short, unless they're letters. I'm going to be writing this story, with like a one chapter being a letter, and the next being Kennedy's point-of-view. It'll go from every other chapter. I would have uploaded this yesterday, but I ended up falling asleep at 6pm, and not waking up until 12pm, today. So, I slept a lovely eighteen hours! Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and I hope it's just as good as the prologue. Please let me know what you guys think!! I love to read all of the comments!