Amnesia

It's All My Fault

"Who are you?" She asked and sat up. "And why are you holding me?"

"I'm your girlfriend, Sabrina Carpenter." She looked at me quizzically.

"Wait, do you actually not  know me?" I asked and she nodded.

"No, sorry." My heart dropped after she said those words.

I ran upstairs and woke Sarah up. "Do you know what time it is?" She asked groggily, squinting her eyes in the darkness of our old bedroom.

"Y-y/n. She- she d-doesn't..." I tried to get the words out, but it felt like there was a lump in my throat.

I didn't have to finish though because she could sense that something was wrong. She sat up in the bed, suddenly wide awake.

"What's wrong, Bri?" Her tone was laced with concern as she turned on the light.

"She doesn't remember me. I-i think that s-something might have happened when she was outside and-" She stopped me and started getting dressed.

"Come on. We'll take her to the hospital." She said and we both went downstairs, got Y/N, and she drove to the hospital.

...

Amnesia. The doctor said that she had amnesia. Y/N doesn't remember anything about her life other than her parents and grandmother. Everything and everyone else was erased from her memories.

I hesitately walked into her room and found her looking at her phone. She looked up and nodded, acknowledging me.

"Hey lady who kidnapped me." She said, though I couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

"I didn't kidnap you and you're less than a year younger than me." I said.

"And how would you know how old I am?" She asked sassily, almost making me smile.

"Because you're my girlfriend and I know at least almost everything about you." I said.

"No I'm not. I don't even know you. Plus I'm not into girls. My dad said that it was wrong to be gay." She said.

I felt tears well up in my eyes but I kept my composure. "Yes you are. You're lesbian, remember? You told me yourself. And I can even prove that we're together." I showed her a picture of us kissing at Disneyland.

"Creep. Why would you photoshop a picture of us?" She asked.

"I didn't. It's real." I explained.

"Either way, I'm straight. Like spaghetti." She said.

"Spaghetti is straight until it gets wet. Like with boys and girls." I said, and then mentally facepalmed myself realizing how inappropriate that sounded.

She laughed at it though, making me smile. "Yeah, okay fine. I'm not straight. My dad would hurt me if he knew I only liked girls." She said, her smile vanishing when she talked about her dad.

She shook her head though and continued talking. "And even though you're really pretty, and I mean like REALLY pretty, like gorgeous... I still don't know you."

"The doctor said you had amnesia. You'll remember eventually, or you won't ever remember." I explained, my tone dropping when I said the last part.

"Then how did I get amnesia?" She asked, intrigued.

"You must of hit your head while you were in the woods."

"What was I doing in the woods?"

"Something happened between us and you decided you needed to be by yourself."

It's my fault you left. It's my fault you got amnesia. It's my fault you don't remember anything. It's all my fault.

"Sabrina, right? Why are you crying?" Y/N asked. I hadn't noticed that I had started crying.

"No reason." I wiped my face and smiled. "Seasonal allergies."

She looked at me suspiciously. "Right... So what am I supposed to do after this? Can I go home?" She asked and I shook my head.

"Not tonight, sorry. They want to make sure that you don't have an concussion." She groaned in annoyance.

"But I don't like hospitals. It freaks me out." She said.

"Why?" I asked.

"I've been in the hospital multiple times because, well why doesn't matter, so I've always been uneasy when going." She said.

I nodded and sat down in the chair by her bed. She started quietly singing a song that I've never heard before.

"What's that song?" I asked and she stopped.

"I, I don't know actually." She answered, furrowing her eyebrows.

"I'm going to sleep. Good night." She said, shutting off the lights.

"Goodnight Y/N. I love you." I said and left the room.