Two weeks had past and the only progress I'd made was a hazy memory of an old house in the snow. The nurses said that this was good and that I was making progress but I was frustrated, although no one was more impatient then Linda, I mean, my mother. I know she is my mum but with no memories to link her to that role it still seems strange to name her as such. They're saying I can go home now, that maybe seeing my mums house will trigger something. Anything. I was in a wheelchair due to my broken ankle, the fracture in my wrist making crutches hard to manoeuvre. In my time in the hospital some more people from my past. Jess, she was in the car with me when we hit the tree. My side of the car took the impact so jess wasn't too badly hurt. And she still had all of her memories. That part was frustrating. She showed me some photos of us, laughing at the memories. I knew it made her sad that I couldn't laugh in the same way with her, that the two best friends in those pictures weren't the same people they were then. Then there was Jake, my mums boyfriend. Way too young for her, erratic and hilarious. He came in on the days I felt most low. Mum told me my dad had left when I was 5, "that man was never cut out for parenthood." I had nothing else to go on so I took what she said as fact. "Are you ready to go, baby?" I jumped as my mum spoke from behind me. "Yeah, I think so."
"Come on then, jakes waiting in the car."
