Chapter 6: Amnesia
Megan's Point of View
Detroit, Michigan United States, 2012
“When is she going to wake up?” A deeply worried female voice queried as I became conscious with my breathing. My whole body feels limp like it wasn’t moved for a very long time. I feel numb but I can miraculously sense movements around the bed where I was lying.
I can hear tensed paces, steadfast fanning and hopeless sighs. I started to wonder who these people might be. My brain has started to become useful again as it bombarded me with questions I can never answer.
If I really wasn’t moved for quite some time, then since when am I lying here? Where am I? And more importantly; who am I? The inner me has squeezed my brain enough to find answers but it was all in vain.
“Your daughter’s vital signs are stable Mrs. Miller.” A coarse voice of an old man broke my concentration as he assured the ‘Mrs. Miller’, tapping her shoulder. She released a sigh and maybe managed a smile as the old man returned it in courtesy. Both Mrs. Miller and another lady nodded in response as the old man in white was lead to exit by a maid.
Wait, what? My sub-conscious squeaked. I’m only supposed to hear things because of my immobilized situation. I’m not supposed to see them. My heart gave a sudden leap with the thought of my soul roaming around the room but my heavy breathing assured me that I’m still alive, though not kicking.
I tried forcing myself to move this time hoping it would actually do, even just one muscle, but then I failed. I never stopped until my concentration was again interrupted. Now with a knock on some kind of hard wood and the sound of the door knob cracking open without permission.
“Mother, is everything all right? I saw the doctor’s car in the parking lot. Is Megan…” Somehow, I feel something familiar with the soft troubled male voice of the barging visitor.
I can feel him panting, which gives an impression of him running to get where he is. “Hey, kiddo. I bought you roses today.” The boy stated as he held my limp right hand and brushed his soft lips against it. Instantly, it sent shivers into my nape and along my spine causing me to feel more of my muscles.
I wanted to open my eyes. I wanted to know who these people are. Maybe that became my motivation to start trying again.
I concentrated on my facial muscles and eventually, I felt a bead of sweat trickling from my hairline towards the side of my cheek. With it I managed to wrinkle my forehead causing the boy to jump out of my bed.
“Mom! Aunt Vivian, she’s awake.” I could hear hard heels running around the hard wood floor towards me as soft cold hands grasped both of mine.
“You can do it darling. Open your eyes.” Mrs. Miller’s voice was soft and warm. In contrast with her cold tightening grip that somehow made me realize I still had my left hand undetached. I tried opening my eyes again as she wiped the bead of sweat off my cheek with a soft damp towel.
This time, I managed to open them. Though only for a fraction of seconds, it already has brought them sighs of relief and subtle frantic commotions.
“Close the curtains.” Another female voice commanded. Whoever she was I promise to thank her when I get up on this sick bed. The light has blinded me the instant I opened my eyes. I felt the brightness quickly decrease with her command as I had the nerve to open them up again.
All I could see at first was the color brown, followed by swirls of gold and flowery prints of red in the ceiling above me. My vision gradually became better as I had a clearer view of two lovely women holding each of my hands and one handsome creature sitting on my bed.
“Oh Megan, dear Megan thank God you’re awake.” Mrs. Miller enclosed me in a tight embrace, hauling me into a sitting position. Tears filled her eyes as they threaten to fall but she was able to hold them in. She had a beautiful relieved smile on her face that showed the small wrinkles beside her glistening pale green eyes. I stared at her for maybe few seconds, the inner me pounding my brain to remember who that lady might be. But there was nothing; nothing at all.
“Get her something to drink.” The blonde lady on the other side of the bed commanded as a maid ran outside the room. I recognized her voice. She was the one who ordered to close the curtains. Thank you. But I was still out of words. I managed a grateful smile, as she returned a bright happy one, making her cold palms gently brush my cheek. Though they were kind of creepy and cold in their pale appearances, I can feel that they’re such good people who were once very close to my heart.
“Well? Say something kid.” The boy beamed beside me stroking my hair. His eyes were emerald green and his flaxen hair has strayed along his eyes, making him tuck them neatly behind his ears. “Oh somebody’s dumbstruck right now. Did you miss me?” He added trying to lift the tension off the air caused by my prolonged silence.
I don’t know them. I don’t know how I got to this place. I don’t know who I am or why am I here. What’s happening? Moreover; what happened? Questions needing immediate answers rumbled up my brain again as the inner me desperately fought her way to provide my lips with words.
“Who are y..you?” I managed a coarse whisper as I turned from the boy to Mrs. Miller. The silence of their disbelief was broken by the door being opened by the maid who handed me a glass of water. I instantly took it leaving Mrs. Miller, the blonde woman and the boy wide eyed with my question.
“What do you mean?” The blonde lady asked, her face now etched with worry. Mrs. Miller is still in shock; her jaw slightly dropped which parted her lips a little.
“Stop messing with us Meg. Oh! I’m gonna call my Aunts and tell them you’re. . . ” A reprimanding tone came out from the boy as he finished his statement with excitement. He stopped as he felt the sincerity of my question.
“I am your mother.” Mrs. Miller spoke as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Megan darling don’t you remember anything?”
I shook my head as I came out of words. “And I am your Aunt Portia, your mother’s friend. . .” The blonde lady added as I turned to look at her ice blue eyes and soft blonde curls falling from her neck. “. . . and this is my son Peter.” She motioned to the boy as I spotted their only resemblance; flaxen blonde hair. Though their eyes are both almond shaped, Portia’s eyes were ice blue and cold while Peter’s eyes were of dark emerald; gentle, kind, warm, sexy. Oh, what am I thinking?
I looked away from Peter, as he noticed my long lingering stare. I stopped at the sight of myself in a mirror. So this is me? I asked myself as I leaned closer to the mirror which is quite a meter or two from my bed. My legs found their strength once again as I planted them on the cold hard wood floor without ripping my eyes off the dresser mirror.
I didn’t mind them standing up in caution as I took my first few steps towards the dresser. She was a young brunette with long wavy locks and streaks of copper as rays of sunlight shone upon her hair. She has orbs of golden brown that where much rounder than those of Mrs. Miller; her mother. Is this supposed to be me?
I placed my palm against the mirror as the young lady did so too. What did I expect myself to look like? I removed my hand from the mirror and let it feel my face. Running my fingers from my cheeks to my lips, I felt a familiar sensation. I knew by then that it was me. I recall this face, I recall this hair. This is me.
But why do I feel like I’m supposed to be older? I was deeply bothered by the thought.
“How long have I been. . .” I turned to ask as I looked from their faces to the bed.
“Over a month. How are you feeling?” Peter answered as he came closer and followed it up with a worried inquiry. I ignored his question as the inner me erupted with a lot more to ask.
“Why was I unconscious?” With my eyes still on the king size white mass of comfort, I started sorting out questions.
“You were in a car accident.” Peter answered warily as my eyes grew wider in curiosity of how. “Don’t worry, no one died in the process.” He assured as he gently gripped my shoulders.
“I missed you Meg.” He whispered in my ear as his voice sent me somewhere down memory lane; a lane where nothing’s actually there.
“She needs something to eat.” Portia spoke up. I’m starting to love this lovely lady. She knows exactly what I need. I nodded in response.
“And we’ll go over the details over our dinner.” Mrs. Miller my mother added as she gave me her hand for me to take. “We have so much catching up to do, Megan darling.” She added as I took it.
*
After the hearty dinner of steak, mashed potatoes, pasta, wine and cakes the inner me has been well served of the information she needed.
The Ravenhearsts bade goodbye as we see them off our gate.
“Tomorrow will be a big day darling.” Mrs. Miller informed as she breathed the coldness of the night. “I will inform our friends of your better condition and I will see that you meet them tomorrow night.” She smiled and stokes my back. “They would be very pleased.” She added as we turned towards the main entrance of our house. I nodded in response as she leads me to my room.
A maid was waiting for me inside, carrying a thick white towel. She motioned at me to enter the bathrooml. “Will you be needing anything more, miss?” She asked as she opened the door for me. I shook my head in response, dismissing her.
The steam was thick and warm as I plunged into the white tub. How long have I not bathed? I asked myself as I indulged to the calming sensation that the warm water and the scented candles have been offering.
I grabbed a shower gel and squeezed it in my palm, lathering it all over my body as I got out of the tub and took a shower. Fragments of everyday activities started to flash slowly in my brain. Memories of waking up in mornings, memories of taking a bath and having breakfast with my aunts and memories of Mrs. Miller, my mother taking me to bed. They were only memories that would help me get through my usual necessities. I tried harder to remember further but there was nothing more in stock.
I pulled out a pair of pajamas in the wardrobe after I had my underwear on. It was quite a struggle, I must admit but good thing glimpses of memories came to rescue me as I layed my eyes on the huge white and gold wardrobe.
After I was properly clothed, a couple of pens caught my eyes. With that I had an idea of writing everything down; all the new information I had over dinner and everything I was able to recall. I opened the drawers in search of any kind of parchment as I stumbled into a small notebook.
There was nothing written on it. So I grabbed a pen and clicked it on. For a few moments my head was blank. I didn’t know how to write. But as the tip of the pen touched the page, I was able to regain my memory of the alphabets.
Name: Megan Miller
Age: 18-eighteen years old
Birth date: December 16, 1994
Blood Type: AB+
Mother: Vivian Miller – Lawyer
Father: George Miller – He was serving the navy and died in battle before I was born.
We’re living with my mother’s four other sisters:
Lora- Quiet red head with pale gray eyes and shoulder length hair
Veronica- Mysterious raven haired lady with dark brown eyes- eldest
Bertha- Loud blonde with dull blue eyes- Only she has the resemblance with Mrs. Miller/mom: blonde hair.
Margaret- Bubbly brunette with maple brown eyes- Maybe I got my hair color from her. – Youngest
Mrs. Portia -bossy but kind- Ravenhearst and her son Peter –handsome and hot- Ravenhearst on the other hand lives few blocks away. We and the Ravenhearsts transferred residence two months ago as my accident happened when we were relocating our stuff.
I closed the notebook as I heard a knock on my door. It was Mrs. Miller. She’s you mother! Why do you keep calling her Mrs. Miller? The inner me keeps nagging again.
“What are you doing, darling?” She asked as she noticed me close the drawer where I kept the notebook.
“N..Nothing.” I smiled as I stood up. “I’m just about to go to bed, mother.”
“Oh darling, it’s been quite some time since I heard that.” She said as she enclosed me in a gentle embrace. I can feel her slight tremors, her gradually tightening hold, her almost soundless sobs and her tears on my left shoulder.
Right then and there I realized how much she loved me. She was worried when I was unconscious more than everybody was. I have to regain my memories again. Now, it’s not only for myself but for her and for the people who cared.
My arms involuntarily draw themselves to embrace her back as my hands stoke her smooth silk nightgown. Tears threatened to prick out of my eyes but I held them in.
“How I’ve missed you Megan.” She whispered more to herself than to me.
A flash of memory then appeared before my eyes. It was in a huge manse looking house, Mrs. Miller was in a Victorian era type of clothing and she was embracing a little brunette girl with bouncing wavy locks. The little girl’s brown eyes sparkled sleepily in the moonlight as Mrs. Miller hushed her to sleep. “I love you darling.” She said as she kissed the girl’s forehead. The little girl closed her eyes and she left the room.
Mrs. Miller broke off the hug as she lifted one end of the blanket for me to slip in. The bed cover was new. It was now a quilted silken red that matched the flowers above the ceiling. I slipped under the covers as she tucked me in bed. “I love you darling.” She said as she kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes as I remembered my weird vision. It was just like this. I was that little girl.
“I… I love you too mother.” I called out before she was able to turn off the lights and leave the room. She just smiled lovingly at me and clicked off the light switch.
I slept peacefully that night. I had dreams of my daily activities and days at school. It was a beautiful sleep that was disturbed by someone heavy bouncing over my bed.