The Second Chance To Live
First
I walked out of the hospital. I was only wearing some ballet flats, a summer dress and a cardigan. Obviously not enough for December. But that's all I had. A few clothes. No place to go, no friends or family, nothing.
I didn't even had a name. I had a name a long time ago. But, as they told me in the hospital, in June, I was a victim of a car accident. I was in coma for months. And when I woke up, I didn't remember a thing. And they couldn't even track my name, family, or anything. Pretty much, I lost my identity.
A nurse came to me after that. She says she'll take me to the place where they will give me a new identity. I hated how they all talked to me like I was a kid. Maybe I didn't remember any of the years before, but there surely were many. The doctors said I was around 26, but couldn't give me the exact birth date.
So the nurse, I learned that her name was Isabella Brighton, took me to 'the place where they will give me a new identity'. First, I could choose from absolutely any name I wanted. I really liked the name Rachel, I heard some mother on the hospital hall called her kid Rachel, so I decided to get that name. When they asked me for surname, I had no idea. So nurse told me that the doctor who saved me had the last name Hughes. So in appreciation of saving my life, I gave myself his surname.
Rachel Hughes. I never was really sure if it matched me, but it sounded nice. But, to be honest, how many names match a girl with pale, almost white face, huge blue eyes and black hair that just cannot be styled to look alright? I guess none.
Then, Isabella took me to 'a place where they'll give me a home'. And they really did find me a small apartment, already furnished for one person, in New Jersey. I wasn't happy about moving from Philadelphia to New Jersey. Because if I stayed here, I could have a chance of meeting someone who knows me and they would tell me about my past. But the girl who found me the apartment in New Jersey said they had no suitable apartments in Philadelphia, except one unfurnished for 4 to 6 people. So I had to deal with my desteny.
Isabella then went with me to the bus station. She bought me tickets to New Jersey, and handled me a booklet where all was written - from my name and apartment address to details on my injury. Then, she handled me some money. 30$. "Not much can be bought with that," she said. "but it's a start. Use it wise."
Then, when I looked at my clothes, I tought, if I buy myself something warmer, I won't even have anything left for food. Isabella saw me looking at my nude legs, ballet flats and short dress and she took out her own purse and gave me 10$ of her own. Then, she said goodbye and she was already gone. Like a hallucination. But hallucinations don't give you real money, I guess.
I didn't even had a name. I had a name a long time ago. But, as they told me in the hospital, in June, I was a victim of a car accident. I was in coma for months. And when I woke up, I didn't remember a thing. And they couldn't even track my name, family, or anything. Pretty much, I lost my identity.
A nurse came to me after that. She says she'll take me to the place where they will give me a new identity. I hated how they all talked to me like I was a kid. Maybe I didn't remember any of the years before, but there surely were many. The doctors said I was around 26, but couldn't give me the exact birth date.
So the nurse, I learned that her name was Isabella Brighton, took me to 'the place where they will give me a new identity'. First, I could choose from absolutely any name I wanted. I really liked the name Rachel, I heard some mother on the hospital hall called her kid Rachel, so I decided to get that name. When they asked me for surname, I had no idea. So nurse told me that the doctor who saved me had the last name Hughes. So in appreciation of saving my life, I gave myself his surname.
Rachel Hughes. I never was really sure if it matched me, but it sounded nice. But, to be honest, how many names match a girl with pale, almost white face, huge blue eyes and black hair that just cannot be styled to look alright? I guess none.
Then, Isabella took me to 'a place where they'll give me a home'. And they really did find me a small apartment, already furnished for one person, in New Jersey. I wasn't happy about moving from Philadelphia to New Jersey. Because if I stayed here, I could have a chance of meeting someone who knows me and they would tell me about my past. But the girl who found me the apartment in New Jersey said they had no suitable apartments in Philadelphia, except one unfurnished for 4 to 6 people. So I had to deal with my desteny.
Isabella then went with me to the bus station. She bought me tickets to New Jersey, and handled me a booklet where all was written - from my name and apartment address to details on my injury. Then, she handled me some money. 30$. "Not much can be bought with that," she said. "but it's a start. Use it wise."
Then, when I looked at my clothes, I tought, if I buy myself something warmer, I won't even have anything left for food. Isabella saw me looking at my nude legs, ballet flats and short dress and she took out her own purse and gave me 10$ of her own. Then, she said goodbye and she was already gone. Like a hallucination. But hallucinations don't give you real money, I guess.