A Part of My Heart

P.O.V. Cassadee

I fidgeted uncomfortably in the plasic chair as I awaited the doctor's return. My eyes scanned the white and pale blue room in a panick as my fingers nervously fiddled with the heart charm that dangled losely around my neck. Man, this doctor's office was setting me on edge... I couldn't help but wonder if I used to be as scared of this place as I am now, but my thoughts were interupted by the door swinging open and slamming roughly into the wall.

"Righty, then... Ms. Everette, is it?" The man questioned me, glancing up from his clipboard for a reply. He was a middle aged man with dark brown skin the color of mocha and a scruffy beard in the making. I nodded, waiting for him to continue and be done with it already. "I am Dr. Jacobs and I'll be your doctor this evening. So, how are we feeling today? Any Dizziness? Headaches? Hallucinations?" He said, oviously not concerned, he was only reading down the list of possible symptoms.

" I'm doing fine. So, to your questions, no, no, and no," I sighed, my british accent coming through as I spoke. He went down the list putting overlarge x's in the blank boxes, then looked back up at me with a forced type of smile.

"Fantastic!"

"I guess..." I grumbled, not too pleased with this strangers enthusiasm and looked away from him and down at the floor. He moved closer to me, rested a hand on my shoulder as if that made anything at all better and gave it an awkward pat.

"Come on, kiddo. Perk up! It's a good day when your alive and well. Now let's get down to business and see how you're healing up, " Dr. Jacobs tried to reassure me, but I found no comfort inhis empty words. Yeah, I'm alive, but I'm not well and he knows it. Despite the valid point I had made in my head, I didn't resist and did as the man asked. I tiled my head forward and lightly to the left, my hand reaching and pulling my hair away to reveal a shaven bald patch on my scalp and in it eight thick haunting stitches. Goosebumps ran throughout my body at the mere thought of it. Most of the time I try to keep the scar out of my mind, but it's not easy with my head being so empty of thought. My mind always goes back to it....

About a month or so ago, I was living the high life with my Father in Africa (at least that what he tells me, so I guess it's true). One day, my Dad and I were driving back to the little hut we were staying in and all hell broke loose. An old rustic car appeared out of no where and started to slam into us, they pounded into us until our car swerved off of the road and went spiralling into a ditch. A week or so later, I woke up in a hopsital, in atown that I didn't know, people I couldn't remember, and a life I had and still have no memory of. Everything that happened before the accident, I was told happened by a an middle aged, stress withered man who claimed to be my father.

I'm still trying to put the puzzle pieces together for myself though...

The hairs in the back of my neck instantly stood on edge the moment his hand brushed my healing skin. "This is wonderful!" he exclaimed, "Your head is healing beautifully, perfect even. In about four weeks you can come back here and we'll be able to pull them right on out."

Automatically, I pulled away from him, slipping out of the chair I had been perched on. "Four weeks? That won't be possible... I have a flight to london tomorrow," I babbled, pacing th floor as my hands flaied about. He gave a small shrug.

" It's alright, you can just as easy get those stitches taken out in London as you can here, but if you don't mind my asking... what's for you in London?" The man leaned against the counter, his eyebrows raised in curiousity. I bit my lip, unsure even myself. "Hopefully, what I've forgotten," I whisper, it was barely audible, but I know that he heard me. I headed for the door, I stopped in my tracks to hear the man all after me.

"Mr. Everette? In London, I hope you find what your looking for."

I smiled, biting my lower lip. "Me too..."