I'll Never Know....

I will never know them.

The person that saved me that day. The person who picked me up, and carried me out of that fire. At least, that’s what they tell me happened.
My kitchen has a gas stove, and I have to start it up with a match. I had just had a fight with my boyfriend; he thought I was cheating on him. I had decided to cook—it’s sort of how I comfort myself. I had just lit it, and the fire got out of control….
My whole kitchen was consumed in flames, my house filled with the acrid smoke, the gas poisoning my lungs, tearing my breath from me in fits of coughing. I passed out, and don’t remember much except for a cool cloth on my forehead, and arms holding me. Nothing except for those two memories stayed with me.
Or, at least, they told me that I passed out.
They tell me a lot of things. They tell me that I’ve never had a sister, that I’ve never had a family. I’m an orphan. I’m an only child. I’m all alone in the world, except for my boyfriend. Aaron and I have been dating for 6 years—all four years of high school, and my current two years of college. They tell me that I love him, and that he proposed to me three weeks ago at my favorite place: on a cliff on the California coastline, overlooking the ocean. He proposed to me at sunset, and gave me a diamond ring as well. My best friend Tracey helped him choose it.
Or so they tell me.
If this is really my life, then why doesn’t it feel real? Why don’t I feel my heart speed up when I think of Aaron? Why doesn’t my “romantic” soul sigh at the memory of being proposed to at sunset?
Why do I feel like I have a family, and that everything that I’ve been told in the past few days has been a lie?
Because all of this, every word I hear, could be a lie.
Supposedly, I’ve been in a coma for two weeks…. Supposedly.
I have no memory of Aaron or of Tracey. I have no memories except for the past days I’ve spent in this white-walled room, and of that fire. That fire which haunts my dreams.
And those arms that held me while the roaring flames rose around me.



“Alice! Oh my God! You’re actually awake! This is like, so freaking amazing!” a peppy voice screeched out in excitement, scattering my thoughts to the fake, hospitalized wind. (I couldn’t imagine how such a loud voice could come out of something so small….)
I sighed inwardly, dreading this next conversation. “Hi, Tracey.” I quickly put up a smiling front, trying to appear as happy to see her as she was me.
“So, like, you won’t believe who I saw today!” Tracey exclaimed, launching into her latest gossip, hopping up and down, making her blonde hair bounce—the single blue streak seemed to loath the movement, and didn’t bounce as high as the lighter shades. I stared at her hair, ignoring the question entirely. When I didn’t say anything, she ‘ahem-ed’ me expectantly.
“Really? Who was it, Tracey?” I said, in a slightly more-than-bored voice. She shot me an annoyed look, then continued as if I was just as excited as she.
“I saw Jason Riley. Isn’t that like, uber-amazing?”
Jason Riley.... Right, who was that again....? I racked my brain frantically, knowing full well that Tracey would expect an answer.
“Oh, really? How is he? It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen—”
“Well, silly, I knew that,” uh-oh…. Where was this leading? “So, I brought him with me!” Tracey quickly ducked out of the room, and came back in, forcefully grabbing someone’s arm. She smiled tightly, and I gave her a weak embarrassed smile in return, watching as more than just an arm appeared. Finally, after much tugging, Tracey fell backwards, successfully pulling a red-headed young man into the room, falling on top of her.
I tried to suppress a laugh as they both hastily scrambled to their feet, he brushing off his khaki slacks, and she smoothing her skirt (which would make even cheerleaders blush). Jason (I assumed) looked at me, smiling nervously, his gray eyes flitting to look left, then right, obviously marking exits. He was average height, sort of lanky. Tracey quickly walked over, and pinched one of his cheeks, and was rewarded with a quiet yelp.
“Look! His skin is like, so much better now…. Though, you have to admit, he’s still sort of wimpy…. He’s not even trying to fight back!” she let out a high, cruel laugh—one that you would expect to hear from a cartoon villain.
I looked at her in horror. “Tracey! You could at least try to be a little nicer!”
She looked at me, confused. “But, you and I used to do this stuff all the time…. I was only teasing him….” Her brown eyes welled up with tears. “Don’t you remember?” When she said that, I swore I saw her eyes flash gold for a moment. I blinked, but they were brown again. It was nothing. Just your imagination. I guess my head really was hurt badly…. I thought.
“It’s ok if you don’t remember. I guess, like, your head really was hurt worse than we thought.” I looked up, startled. It was like Tracey had just…. No, she couldn’t. Reading minds was impossible.
“Well, anyway,” Tracey yawned, letting go of Jason, who quickly hightailed it to the door, muttering something like “great seeing you, Alice” (no surprise to me—I would escape Tracey, too, given the chance….), “I guess I’d better get going. The Numbers Team is probably getting worried….”
She noted my blank stare. “The school math team? Remember?” she sighed in frustration.
“Oh…. Yeah…. Sorry, I forgot….” I mumbled, trying to hide my confusion. How did someone so….so….ditzy get on the math team? Half the time, it was like she didn’t think, and just blurted out whatever she happened to be thinking at the time. Furthermore, how did it happen that someone who I couldn’t even begin to like, get to be my best friend? Surely, this was not the life I’d had for the past 20 years….
Tracey rolled her eyes, and waved a hand lazily. “Anyway, I should get going. Love ya, babe!” she pranced over to my hospital bed, and gave me a peck on the cheek before skipping out the door. Her head popped back in for one quick moment, “Toodles!” and she was gone.
She was actually, truly, beyond-belief gone. I sighed in relief, that my personal torture device had left the building…. At least, I hoped so.



Two flights down, and three corridors to the right, an old, white haired woman laid in her bed, loathing the hospital, and the food, and all of the meaningless visitors that came to see her. People she’d never even seen or heard of before she came here. To the “white zone”, as she liked to think of it.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway. She steeled herself for the visitor, not sure who or what to expect. The fluorescent lights flickered, then went out entirely. She flinched, and pulled the covers up close to her, a childish habit that she’d never seemed to shake.
The footsteps reached her room, and stopped just outside the door.
“Wh-who’s there?” the woman asked, annoyed that her voice wasn’t stronger.
“Don’t worry, Grandmother, it’s just me.” A soft, high voice said. The footsteps continued into her room, and she felt a smooth, young hand take hers.
“I told you, young lady, that I don’t know you! I have never been here before!” she started shaking, as she usually did when she was upset.
The hand stroked the back of hers. “Ssh, it’s ok. I understand.”
She froze, her shaking ceased. “You do?” she clung to the small glimmer of hope that she’d just been given—did she really, truly understand?
“Of course I do, Grandmother. You’re senile. You’re insane. Isn’t that right?”
“No! I’m not—” a quick flash of gold in the shape of eyes took her vision for a moment. She blinked, the lights came back on. “Yes, yes of course. I’m losing my memory….”
“That’s right,” the young voice said soothingly. “You were diagnosed with dementia last year.”
“Yes, I remember now….” The old woman said groggily, as if she had been drugged.
“I have to go now, Grandmother.”
“Of course, dear…. I will see you next time.” She felt someone kiss her cheek lightly, and a small streak of blue hair crossed her vision.
“Goodbye, Grandmother. Have sweet, pleasant dreams.”
“Goodbye, dear….” And she drifted into sleep, not remembering her earlier thoughts. Not remembering anything but that sleep felt good. So wonderful, and that she would only have pleasant dreams.



Tracey slipped on her sunglasses, and waltzed over to the front desk.
“Hello, ma’am, how may we help you today?” the woman at the front desk smiled.
Tracey faked a sob, and started her prepared speech: “M-my grand….” Sob, “grandmother, she’s g-going insane…. And…. And sh-she asked me to….” Sob, “to come h-here and request….” She promptly burst into tears, and took off her sunglasses with shaking hands.
The woman at the front desk quickly got up, and walked around the desk. She put her arm around the distraught girl, and led her to a chair.
“It’s okay, honey. What did she say, now?” the woman rubbed Tracey’s back comfortingly.
“Sh-she requested….” Tracey shuddered convincingly, taking a breath to try to calm herself. “….termination.”
The hospital secretary froze, her hand stopped it’s circling. “She requested what?”
“She requested termination….” The girl burst into tears. “The only problem is…. Is that…. Sh-she won’t remember…. She has de-dementia….” Tracey leaned into the woman’s embrace, crying as only a severely upset grandchild would do.
“It’s ok, honey, don’t worry. We’ll have to ask her to confirm it, though. What’s her number?” she gently pulled away from the girl, pulling out a pen and paper.
“She’s patient number 30075.” Tracey sobbed, then stopped. Her voice took on a smooth, calming tone. “But you don’t need a confirmation. My word as her grandchild is good enough.”
The woman gave a small laugh, “I’m sorry hun, but confirm—” a flash of gold passed her vision. She looked confused, then her eyes glazed over. “You’re right. As her granddaughter, your word is as good as gold. We’ll take care of everything.”
“I’m sure you will.” The woman’s eyes started to go back to normal. Tracey quickly started sobbing again. “Th-thank you…. So much….” And she stumbled out of the waiting area, and around the corner.
Once she was around the bend, she stopped, and wiped her eyes with a pink handkerchief embroidered with a blue “T”. What she had just done would have made any normal person feel guilty. She mused on what guilt must feel like, but, being as she didn’t have a conscience, she stopped caring. She shrugged—she was just doing her job.
All of the sudden, a scream came from the ward where the mentally handicapped were placed.
“She’s not my granddaughter! You can’t do this to me! You need my bloody confirmation! No.... No! Get that thing away from me! No! NO!” the screams stopped.
Tracey smiled cruelly, and started walking towards the door. She had done well today, and she knew it. Her boss would reward her well. She licked her lips expectantly, and walked out into the sunlight, slipping on her pink-tinted sunglasses.
This had been a very, very good day.