– Thursday, May 10th, –
I heard them talk about how 'lucky' I am. To be alive, to not have that much injuries. Because apparently the car flipped over at least three times before it came to a stop against the guardrail.
It's all I know, and that's the end of it. It makes sense seeing the fact I remember noises that go along with a car crash, but I can't visually picture the crash, or anything that happened prior to it; two fucking years in total.
And the doctor's advised against filling my head with memories that wouldn't feel like my own, that would pool my mind and maybe even make recovery more difficult.
Simply because if they would tell me things, the doctors wouldn't be able to judge my recovery upon what I can remember. They would never be sure if I do really remember, or if I know because I was told by others.
Just like the past two days, I woke up to find Finnley seated in a chair next to my bed, asleep in what seems to me an uncomfortable position.
I asked him why they won't just allow him to sleep in the same room as I do, since it's a double room and the other bed is empty anyway, but he simply responded, 'he sleeps in a different ward'.
I calmly asked him which ward, because I still have no idea why he's still in hospital while he's obviously allowed to wander of during the nights, but he didn't answer.
I asked if he was staying in the psychiatric ward – which I think would be logical after being abducted – but he didn't answer.
Other then yesterday, today he has no appointments to go to, and no visitors to go and meet up with, so he's in my room constantly, but I don't get why since we're hardly talking.
Stan visited on Tuesday, again yesterday after school, and he just showed up again today, with a big bouquet of flowers and a stuffed teddy bear.
I didn't miss the look he sent Finnley right before he leaned in to peck a kiss on my lips, awkwardly scratching the back of his head right afterwards.
"How are you doing today?"
"Bored, annoyed..." I shrug. "The usual."
"He's been asking questions again." Finnley simply tells him without looking up from the book he's reading. "And he's annoyed because obviously he's not getting any answers. Could you get it in his head that I'm not the right person to ask questions too?"
Stan stares at Finnley for a while, obviously a bit lost on how to react, before he decides on ignoring it, sitting down beside me on the bed. "Did you sleep okay?"
"I had a nightmare again." I admit, burying my face against his chest, smiling as I feel him wrap his arms around me, though I did notice the fact he shortly froze, as he does every time. "Threw up again. I keep dreaming I'm drowning, and then there's these noises and lights that are too bright."
Stan soothingly rubs my back with his hand, and I noticed he is rocking me back and forth gently.
"Can't they give you something that'll help you sleep better?"
"They did already but so far it isn't helping."
"And how's your head? Does it hurt?"
"I'm really unfocused, and dizzy easily." I yawn tiredly, allowing myself to relax into his hold a bit more. "I just want to go home though. Sleep in your arms again."
Finnley snorts, though it sounds a bit... sarcastic? Before he gets up, leaving his book behind on the table and exiting the room without another word.
"What's going on with him, Stan? I'm worried to no end."
"Don't worry about Finn right now. You need to focus on you and nobody else."
"Can you please answer one question?"
Stan bites his lips, staring at me as I pulled my head back to look him in the eyes. "Depends..."
"Was I driving myself and did I cause the accident?"
"Those are two questions, but no to both." He smiles carefully and answers my kiss with one of his own. "You're not to blame."
"So, who was driving? Was it Finn?"
Stan smirks, before he shakes his head. "It wasn't Finn. I'm not sure... If I could tell."
"Because I don't remember, right?" I sigh annoyed, shaking his arms off e to lay back down annoyed. "I just want to know how they're doing."
"The guy's doing... okay. Seeing the circumstances, he's okay. Compared to you, he's fine."
"Did he whoever drove cause the accident?"
"He did not. Cris, please... stop asking all these questions that I'm not supposed to answer. You know I can't stand those puppy-eyes from you."
"I know." I smirk and laugh out a bit. "I'll stop asking questions about the accident."
"Ha, you're not fooling me. Not just the accident, but anything."
"Finn too?"
"Finn's a forbidden subject too, yes."
"But whatever happened, it's killing him. I can tell. He's not doing good at all. I mean, he's here every day, but we hardly speak to each other and he keeps avoiding eye contact, he keeps avoiding every subject I start. For crying out loud, Stan,we talked about thewhethertoday."
"Stop worrying about..."
"I'm not going to stop worrying!" I cut him short, sending him an angry look. "It's Finn we're talking about. He is staying in hospital and nobody tells me why." And I want to just pull him in my arms and comfort him and kiss his pouting lips until he smiles.
But I know he won't let me touch him for over three seconds, so I refrained from doing it so far.
I wanted to invite him to lay down in the bed with me instead of that uncomfortable chair, but than what would Stan think?
"What's going on, Stan?" I sigh, murmuring the words sadly and defeated. "What's bothering him?"
"A lot, but you shouldn't worry about it right now. If he wanted you to worry about it, he long would've told you himself."
"He isn't allowed."
"There's one thing I can tell you about Finn and the past two years, and that's how we found out Finn doesn't always play by the rules. If he wants you to know, he'll tell you anyway. But he doesn't, because he wants you to remember yourself."
"Ugh, I hate this." I mutter, slumping down, laying my head in his lap. "Where're the rest of my friends? Why didn't Emma visit? I feel like I was fighting with her, but I'm in hospital so we should put trivial fights aside, right?"
"Emma... would visit... If she could... but she can't..."
Now, I might be in hospital, but I do recognize it when Stan lies. Emma wouldn't visit, and I guess our fight was bigger than I remember or feel. And obviously Stan isn't capable, or allowed, of explaining that either.
"What about my fight with Jaimie? I know it was two years ago. Are we still fighting?"
Stan smiles and messes up my hair with a hand. "We kept Jaimie away because you only remembered the fight two years ago. But I guess you realise that has been a long time ago. I'll take him here with me tomorrow, okay?"
"You're coming again tomorrow?" I smile widely, staring up at him, taking in his facial features happily.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"
"Because I had a feeling you hate being here with me."
"I... don't. And it's not a lie!" He holds up his hands as if in surrender and I guess he realised it came out doubtful. "It's hard to see you this way, okay? But I'll be here for you every day for as long as you need me to."
"Thanks, Stan. I appreciate it."
* * * * *
I took a nap shortly after my conversation with Stan, and I found him seated in the same chair I usually find Finnley in. For a couple of seconds, I wished it had been Finnley I could look at, but than Stan smiled, and I couldn't fight back a smile of my own.
I had my first session of therapy in the afternoon. Stan brought me there with a wheelchair and left for the duration of therapy to go and find Finnley. I was picked up by my parents and at my request, they drove me outside because I needed the fresh air. I miss the sun, I miss the wind in my hair, and it's fairly nice whether today too.
I didn't expect to find Finnley and Stan outside too, bickering over something. I don't think mom and dad realised right away since they had their own conversation, but I did. At first, I couldn't hear what they were talking about, I just saw they were bickering over something.
I took in Finnley, who put on different clothes and I recognize the sweatpants he's wearing as one of my own, but I can't remember giving it to him.
As soon as we're in close range, I notice there's a third guy with them, sitting next to Finnley, looking a bit lost. I do recognize him as Nathan, and it confuses me a bit because all I remember is Stan and Nathan hating on each other. But I guess things changed over a two year timespan.
"He doesn't remember. Forget about it." Finnley hisses towards Stan, annoyed and angry, taking a drag from a cigarette.
"I can't help it either. We talked to the doctors about it and they told me to not tell him anything right now. Nate agrees..."
"That doesn't mean I like to witness it!" Finnley snaps, turning away from Stan, causing his eyes to land on me. His eyes widen, and he nudges Nathan, who than looks at me too.
"Hey!" Nathan jumped up, Stan swirled around on his feet and instantly smiles; a fake smile. I can tell it's forced.
"Hey..." I stare at Nathan, feeling awkward because I don't know what our connection is these days. The last I remember is me, distrusting Nathan.
"So, ehm... I'm going to visit Oliver." Nathan smiles awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "I hope you get better soon, Cris."
"Thanks..." I watch him walk away because following him with my eyes is less awkward than listening to the awkward silence between me, my parents and Stan and Finnley. "Can I know about him?"
Finnley rolls his eyes, but I see he's fighting a small smile, while he slumps down on the bench again. "He's your roommate."
"My roommate? Wow, that's... a change."
"Yeah, but he's cool. And you two are really close fri..."
"Finn." Mom and Stan press him to stop talking in unison.
"He's not a freaking baby." Finnley mutters, shrugging quickly. "He's one of his best friends, what's bad about me telling that? It's not like I taint his mind with lies." He sends Stan a short look and I can't help but frown.
But than again I can't help but chuckle too because I do remember this side to Finnley. If he wants to tell me something, he'll tell me, either directly, or by cryptically doing so. He'll tell me anyway.
So, Stan is lying about something, and Finnley disagrees with it. But Stan does it because the doctors told him so.
And while I look at Finnley typing away on his phone, I remember reading a phone conversation between him and... Nathan? In which he confessed his love for me.
I stare at him, trying to hide a smile to prevent Stan from noticing it, because I don't want him to know it warms me from within to know Finnley likes me.
"What do you want to do?" Mom leans over to look at me. "Just sit here?"
"Yeah, I guess." I shrug carelessly. "It's not like I can do much else."
"You'll be home before you know it."
"I just need to walk properly first." I roll my eyes as she places the wheelchair beside the bench, and I get up and wobble my way over to the bench to sit in between Stan and Finnley. Stan instantly jumped up to help me, and I pull his arm around my shoulder to nuzzle into his hold, instantly relaxing.
"I'm gonna visit Oliver too." Finnley jumps up out of the blue, hurrying away before I got a chance to express my disappointment over him leaving me again.
Stan bites his lip, mom and dad share a look, and I groan because all these secrets are pissing me off more each second.
"So, who's Oliver?" I decide on switching the subject, turning their attention away from Finnley.
"He's the one who was driving." Stan whispers, getting an annoyed look from both my parents for telling me this.
"I really can't remember him, though." I frown, sinking further down in my seat, leaning more into Stan's hold. "Had we been friends for long?"
"Couple of months. I bet you'll remember him once you meet him. He's easy to remember because he leaves big impressions." Stan chuckles and both my parents chuckle, obviously agreeing to the last statement.
"So, can I meet him?"
"Once you're strong enough, you can." Dad nods and smiles. "He's been eager to see you again too, but let's say the doctors all think it's better for the you to... calm down a bit."
"Calm down a bit?"
"Slow down." Mom sighs. "Let it all sink in, accept the situation, not ask that many questions?"
"Does he remember everything?"
The three of them share looks, before dad sighs deeply, nodding again, but than shakes his head and shrugs. "Not the accident, but he isn't suffering from memory loss like you do. He forgot about two weeks, but most memories came back by now."
"That's so unfair..." I grumble, crossing my arms in front of my chest in protest. "Why do I have to suffer from memory loss. Why does it have to be two fucking years?"
"Watch your language, Cris." Mom smiles carefully, sitting down on my side and caressing my hair. "You are alive and that's what's most important. Those memories don't define you. Take your time to heal, recover, and allow your mind to remember it when it wants. Sometimes there's a reason you can't remember things after trauma."
"Because it could be too much to handle right now." Dad joins in, nodding in agreement again. "Which is why we can't tell you anything. Your head, your mind, it needs to process everything in its own pace."
"You need to find a balance yourself." Stan whispers, pulling me closer again. "Find out, let your body and mind decide what it can handle, and what not. It's a challenge, but it'll help you heal in your own time."
"Makes sense... I guess." I sigh, leaning my head against Stan's chest. "At least I remember you."