Forgotten Faces

How often do you picture yourself in a white dress with a bouquet of flowers in your hands? I’ve pictured myself like that hundreds of time’s since I met my fiancé, Zachary Baker. I always thought we were perfect together. We hardly fought, and if we did it was only something major.

I miss Zachary.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen his face

It‘s been a long time since I‘ve seen anyone‘s face.

I’m asleep.

I can‘t hear anyone nor am I aware of my surroundings. Like anyone who’s asleep, except I can’t wake up. I sometimes hear people, but very faintly and their voices are unrecognizable. I’m only aware of my own thoughts and dreams. I’ve had numerous nightmares, but I’ve never woken up screaming.

I think I’m in a coma. No, I’m pretty sure I am. So desperately, I want to open my eyes and see the world. Unfortunately for me, my body is nothing but dead weight. I would cry, but I couldn’t even do that. I wonder how often Zachary thinks about me. I wonder if he knows where I am.

I’m probably driving most of you mad, wondering when and how I got in a coma. I think it was the day of our wedding. We were in a limousine, my brides maid’s and I.I remember arguing with one of them, my friend Katherine. She was talking non-sense about me marrying Zacky. She told me it was going to be the biggest mistake, that he would only leave me, and our unborn child one day. Because she claimed him as a dirty unfaithful rock star who wanted nothing but sex. She didn’t know that I knew she and Zachary were old flames.

She had to be stupid. I wasn’t too fond of this “friend“. I didn’t have many, she was more as a friend of a friends and we hardly knew each other. I just needed one more brides maid. I remember her talking about the baby, the one I was carrying. Maybe I was seven months? I often think about my baby, it would’ve been a little boy. As we were turning a corner on our way to the church, a large truck had reared my side of the limo. I often wonder if it was only I that got hurt and even worse, I don’t recall if my baby had survived. I knew it didn’t. It couldn’t have. I was facing the window, my stomach a perfect target.

I do recall coming into the hospital on a stretcher though. I was falling in and out of consciousness and I remember them talking urgently while other doctors and nurses whizzed around the room.

“The baby…it won’t make it.” was the last thing I heard. I desperately tried to look at them and scream for them to help my child and forget me, but there were so many bright lights I just had to close my eyes. And when I did, I wasn’t able to ever open them.