Status: Just Started. Please Be Patient.
Broken Memories
Feeling like a heavy weight rested on her chest, a young woman sat up slowly, blinking groggily as her eyes tried to adjust to the light. Everything that surrounded her was a sterile white, and the air chilled her down to the bone. The room was small, fairly empty, and the only break from the colorless state of the room was the blinking lights on the machine next to her. She shifted on the bed to her side, a sharp pain emerging in her arm and she couldn't help but to gasp as her eyes locked on the IV stuck in her skin.
Everything felt, everything seemed, wrong.
No other word could come to her mind as she continued to examine her surroundings, her heart rate gradually beginning to climb. Where am I? She thought. I, I can't remember anything. What happened? How would I get here?
Breathing hard, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, despite the screaming protest of the machine at her side, and she began pulling at the IV. The wrist bands on her arm kept getting in her way, but she didn't bother with them. She was nearly panting, her fingers trembling, as she ripped the IV out of her vein, but she didn't scream. Instead, she let the needle fall from her hands to white, tile floor, watching carefully as a few drops of blood fell around it. Staring intently, her shoulders fell, relaxing, as her blood marred the sterile vibe of the room and she let herself lean back into the pillow.
Gradually, the machine returned to a steady rhythm of beeps, but she still couldn't feel at peace. She let her gaze fall back at the wrist bands, examining each one fairly carelessly, just trying to ease herself. The only thing that really stood out to her, was the number 864702CD. For some odd reason, it felt eerily familiar, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recall anything to relate the number to, in fact, her mind and memories seemed to be entirely blank.
Getting antsy, the young woman ran her hand up and down the arm that had hosted the IV, raking her nails against her skin. They caught on her wrists, drawing her eyes as well, and a feeling of dread overwhelmed her. There, beneath her fingernails, lay fresh stitches, pulling together a deep cut on her wrist. Without even stopping to think, she looked at her other wrist and found an almost identical mark, stitches and all, and couldn't help but to feel woozy.
Before she could even think, the door into the room swiftly pushed open.
**This is separate from the story, but I needed to state these few things. One. This story idea was given to me by a very dear friend named Aurelia. I love her more than I can ever truly express, and if she ever reads this, I hope this shows as a testimony to how much I admire her and how much I cherish our friendship. This is written completely in her honor. Two. If you have a better title idea, PLEASE comment either on this story, on my profile, or simply message me directly. I hate the name and I can't come up with anything I like better that doesn't give away the mystery. Three. Feel free to leave ANY COMMENTS at all on the story. SERIOUSLY. Constructive criticism, comments about how much you like the story, and even correction to my grammatical errors (because its going to happen more often than not. I mean, yesh. I write this most often during free time I happen across while babysitting, and trust me, watching children all day fries the brain) would be GREATLY APPRECIATED! I LOVE FEED BACK!!! And if you're at all confused or want to make a suggestion or correction to my work, don't be afraid to private message me. I promise I won't bite.**
Everything felt, everything seemed, wrong.
No other word could come to her mind as she continued to examine her surroundings, her heart rate gradually beginning to climb. Where am I? She thought. I, I can't remember anything. What happened? How would I get here?
Breathing hard, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, despite the screaming protest of the machine at her side, and she began pulling at the IV. The wrist bands on her arm kept getting in her way, but she didn't bother with them. She was nearly panting, her fingers trembling, as she ripped the IV out of her vein, but she didn't scream. Instead, she let the needle fall from her hands to white, tile floor, watching carefully as a few drops of blood fell around it. Staring intently, her shoulders fell, relaxing, as her blood marred the sterile vibe of the room and she let herself lean back into the pillow.
Gradually, the machine returned to a steady rhythm of beeps, but she still couldn't feel at peace. She let her gaze fall back at the wrist bands, examining each one fairly carelessly, just trying to ease herself. The only thing that really stood out to her, was the number 864702CD. For some odd reason, it felt eerily familiar, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recall anything to relate the number to, in fact, her mind and memories seemed to be entirely blank.
Getting antsy, the young woman ran her hand up and down the arm that had hosted the IV, raking her nails against her skin. They caught on her wrists, drawing her eyes as well, and a feeling of dread overwhelmed her. There, beneath her fingernails, lay fresh stitches, pulling together a deep cut on her wrist. Without even stopping to think, she looked at her other wrist and found an almost identical mark, stitches and all, and couldn't help but to feel woozy.
Before she could even think, the door into the room swiftly pushed open.
**This is separate from the story, but I needed to state these few things. One. This story idea was given to me by a very dear friend named Aurelia. I love her more than I can ever truly express, and if she ever reads this, I hope this shows as a testimony to how much I admire her and how much I cherish our friendship. This is written completely in her honor. Two. If you have a better title idea, PLEASE comment either on this story, on my profile, or simply message me directly. I hate the name and I can't come up with anything I like better that doesn't give away the mystery. Three. Feel free to leave ANY COMMENTS at all on the story. SERIOUSLY. Constructive criticism, comments about how much you like the story, and even correction to my grammatical errors (because its going to happen more often than not. I mean, yesh. I write this most often during free time I happen across while babysitting, and trust me, watching children all day fries the brain) would be GREATLY APPRECIATED! I LOVE FEED BACK!!! And if you're at all confused or want to make a suggestion or correction to my work, don't be afraid to private message me. I promise I won't bite.**
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Chapter One
Kaylee Lyn Hemlock