The Amalgamation Of Two Worlds

**Three years after the mutt epidemic.**

*Audrey’s Point of View*

Rain. Such a simplistic quality the Earth held. Such a soothing feeling it left off, such a calming sound.

When I stepped out of the building, I wasn’t at all surprised to see it raining. I may enjoy the sight of rain, I may relax and sleep better when I hear the pitter patter of it on the roof, but that didn’t mean I was going to enjoy walking home in it. But of course, when had my luck been better?

Part of my mind liked to believe that I was lucky, for if I wasn’t, why would I be alive? The car crash I had been in was brutal. Not shortly after I had been pulled out, a fire had issued. I was extremely lucky to be alive, to still be able to breathe. It was a miracle, or so my therapist said. But a deeper part of me, a part that I couldn’t quite explain, liked to believe the fact that my luck sucked, and nothing had changed.

I didn’t remember much. After a week in the hospital, dreams had began coming to me. For a while I had them constantly, always different. One thing about them was always similar, though. I always woke up screaming. They ranged from being beat, to watching people die. I dreamed of horrific scenes, horrific sounds, and sometimes things that I didn’t know how my mind could create. Some dreams I found myself having a head land in my lap, others I found myself running. Just running. I was running away from something, but what?

The first few week were the worst, after that, the dreams died down. Usually I would dream once or twice a week, but even now, they were growing slimmer. But that may be due to the medication my therapist had put me on. It didn’t stop them, but it seemed to blur them. I could no longer make out faces or words. It was always a jumble, and when I awoke, I would be frightened and confused.

According to my doctor, the dreams were an illusion. A part of my mind was in such a huge amount of pain, that when I awoke, it struggled for a reasonable explanation. A car crash wasn’t reasonable. My mind rebelled against the thought, thinking it was too simplistic. According to my doctor, that is. So, when nothing came to, it invented this horrific tale of events to put an explanation to my pain.

My name is Audrey Alsher. Or so I was told. I don’t remember much of my childhood, or anything for that matter. I had been heading to work when I got in that car crash. No one knew the specifics, all they did know was in the other vehicle, everyone was dead. I worked at a small café called Fluffy’s. It was a cute little place with a teddy bear theme... which frightened me the first day I went back. Their eyes seem to just watch, and I found myself almost hating teddy bears after that day.

I had worked there for two years before the accident, not that many people remembered me. I had a work record there, of all my hours and raises, but most of the employees didn’t recognize me. Some would nod politely and say they did, but their eyes told a different story. My therapist said this was because I was shy. I always stayed in the back, out of people’s way. Somehow, I doubted that. Or maybe it was true, and maybe the accident changed my life. Changed who I was.

However, there was a factor that baffled even my doctor. I had no birth certificate. I had no record of my life, I had no record of my schooling or anything else. I had no hospital card of licence. I had no record, besides that of my work. And deep down I didn’t feel like a Alsher. It just didn’t fit. When I brought this thought to my therapist, I think she thought I was crazy. Though, I guess anyone seeing a therapist, technically was, in a sense, crazy. Personally, I didn’t believe that, but why else would people stare at me as I was? I felt normal. I thought I was normal, in most ways, so why would I be looked at as a lunatic? Unless, of course, I was crazy.

I couldn’t complain about my life. I knew things didn’t add up, and sometimes my dreams seemed more like reality than everything else, but at least I was alive. I had a decent, well one step away from shitty, apartment. I had a job. Wasn’t that enough?

I lived okay. I had no immediate complaints, so everything was fine. This was my life, and despite the nagging deep down in my head, I just had to learn how to deal with it.