I fell and fell and fell until everything was dark, a pitch black abyss. I was waiting a long time for someone to save me—to know why I fell. Everything was between my parents and I arguing, to my best friend and I laughing. The stars, the stars I know were important to me. A shadow of a figure, someone I don’t recognize pulls into my view, I can ’t make out their face, full of silhouettes and mystery. My vision was not back, but I was alive. I was alive and thought, who am I?

I cannot think of who I am or what my past was. I tried not to think about it. I couldn’t think at all. Loud, unpredictable, buzzing lights and hand sanitizer fumes clogged my nose; my hands twitched carefully. I think I knew where I was. “I found him in the waters, right off the pier.”

“Geez. Okay. Any identification? No?”

“No one was around either. It was all so strange.”

“What’s your name?”

“Isaac Bright.”

“Thank you, Isaac. You saved his life.”

“Anyone would have done it.”

“No. Not anyone.”

Isaac. Do they know I can hear? Doubt it. I want to wake up, but my body is paralyzed. Not literally. I can move my feet and my hands. Nothing hurts either. Maybe they put me on something, and it will wear off soon. I wait patiently for my body to ache, drums of pain, piercing my skin at once.

Nothing comes. It’s dark still. This is what loneliness feels like, I’m guessing. Everyone is moving on, and I lie here, sitting in the dark, longing for the light. Any type of light. This is worse than death. Or was I dead? No one knows what happens after death.

Time is weird for me, I saw very little light and could hear everything. I heard someone who called themselves Mom. She sounded concerned.

“It’s been three months…” Has it? “Pulling the plug might be the only option. I’m sorry.” Hysterical sobbing, tearing through my chest, again I was breathing air. Not water filling my lungs, real air.June 23, 2001, I saw from the calendar when I opened my eyes. Why was I even trying to live? Is it just instincts kicking in? I felt this tube choking me, and this was how I truly died…from a ventilator? That’s what they called it. The moment I tried to sit up, Mom wanted to come hug me. People came rushing in, voices drowned out my second near-death. I was alive….somehow.

“It’s a miracle!”

I don’t know where I was, or who these people are. My head rang, banging against the drum of my heart, and I was drowning again. No…you’re breathing air. You’re here, surrounded by a group of people who care.

“It’s me, Mom.”

“Raine, are you doing okay?”

”He looks different. And how does he have no broken bones? Or scars?”

I wanted to speak, but everyone kept talking…loud…too loud. I closed my eyes, hoping I would be in that darkness again. I wasn’t lonely anymore, but I was alone. I needed to see who I was.

”Uhm…is my name Raine?”

The room fell silent, the lines blurred on from there. Doctors (that’s what they’re called) were asking questions, filling me with confusion.

“How old are you?”

”I don’t know.”

”What’s the year?”

“2001…there’s a huge calendar right there.” I pointed.

”At least you know what a calendar is.” The doctor jotted notes.

”Do you know your birthday?”

”No.”

“Do you know the president?”

“No…”

“Do you know what 2 + 2 is?”

What are these questions?

“4?”

“That’s good. But unfortunately, Raine here has amnesia.”

“Is that a disease?” A kid asked, holding Mom’s hand.

”Haha, no. It means his memory is impaired. He lost mostly all knowledge of who he is or who you guys are.”

“Will he…ever remember?”

“Maybe. I wouldn’t force it, though.”

A month or so has passed, and I’m still adjusting to what my family calls home. It’s a big rectangular place, full of decorations, paintings, writings, and old books; the funny thing is, everything felt familiar, but I had no clue where I was. This wasn’t my home. Not anymore. I was a stranger, the tiles were pure white, patterned like a checkerboard.

How come I can remember some things but not my own family or myself? On this day, I finally got the courage to ask my family something that had been crawling in my brain.

“Do you guys know who Isaac Bright is?”

Immediately, faces fell, the crowd was nowhere to be seen, and echoes of lost knowledge roamed this house. It was haunted by grief or fear. My dad (the big gruff guy who loves fish) cleared his throat, changing the conversation around.

“We don’t talk about the Brights.”

”How come?”

A chorus of they’re weird and I heard rumors they are cannibals.

The knowledge I didn’t know gave me new knowledge. I was in that family…and I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

“How do you remember him?” Someone in the chorus asked.

“I don’t…when I was in…uhm, a coma..yes. When I was in a coma, I overheard this guy named Isaac Bright… he saved me, I guess.”

I should have just stayed silent.

“Well…we are…moving along from that.”

“Do you guys truly know anything about them?”

“You did…before the accident. You were talking with their grandfather…” My sister’s voice trailed, catching the evil rays of what is called my family.

After that, no one pushed, we moved on. Sort of.

–

It’s a holiday today, something called The Fourth Of July? It’s a celebration of Independence for America. I don’t see the hype, then again I do have severe brain damage. I was walking around, catching myself near a sign that says, ‘DO NOT CROSS’.

No one was around, or so I thought.

“You thinking about crossing?” I jumped, dropping my bag full of old books. I’ve been trying to catch up on classics. My mom says it might help jog my memory. It hasn’t.

“Uh…oh hi. Have…have we met?” This guy, dirty blonde, brown eyes, taller than me. It looks like he was about to cry.

“Do you not remember me?” He fell back his gaze, folding his hands into thin pockets, catching only his fingertips.

“Issac Bright…right?”

Isaac’s eyes brightened, feeling more alive. He nodded. I felt guilt hang loose, tugging me down back in the water.

“I’m sorry. I have what the doctors call amnesia. I can’t even remember my family…but…maybe you could help me.”

I was careful about my movements. I needed to know what happened to me. And who I was. We decided to walk around the eerie forest onto this road where no cars were around. It was quiet for a while.

“Is it always quiet around here?”

“Haha, yeah. You’re lucky to see a deer. Your family and mine are the only neighbors. I don’t want to intrude, but what does your family think of us?”

“Uhm…half say you’re weird and the other half say cannibals…I know how it sounds. We are terrible.”

“They are. You never were. Are.”

We paused to sit on two stumps like they were carved for us. For this moment.

“Who was I? Were we close?”

He scratched a ghost itch, keeping his breath steady, scared of saying the wrong thing.

“You were…nothing like your family. You’re different…in a good way. And you were close with my grandfather. Then you and I began talking. It’s pretty tragic, but you are my only friend.”

I nodded my head gently to understand. I want to remember our memories.

“Not tragic. From my knowledge of being home for a few days. I am guessing you are my only friend too.”

Isaac looked at me with such a shiny, hopeful look. It made my stomach flip, shaping my idea of reality into something more. I must have given the same look because he looked away, grinning.

“How is everything at home? If you are okay with me asking.”

I scratched a ghost itch, sighing, relieving something I’ve held in for a while. I don’t know my family, and deep down, maybe I never did. I have a family that does care, I know they do…it’s just complicated.

“It’s complicated…it’s…it’s just weird. Like I’m a stranger.”

A flash hit me. I was sitting down right here, holding a can of soda, chilled almost frozen. Face aching…trees were cold, standing still—frozen in time.

“You okay?”

Was I? Was that a memory?

“Yeah…I just got a wave of deja vu…”

“That makes sense. We’ve been here twice before.”

This felt different, no one was with me. I was alone. It was cold, I was tired, very tired. I stood up, stomach curling over, vomit leeched out. It kept coming. It was gross, but he was there. This time I wasn’t alone.

“It’s okay.” He said, patting my back.

That moment was serious. If I didn’t have amnesia, I would be more embarrassed. Everything blurred together. We walked and walked. Not to my house but a bigger one in the woods. It’s beautiful. Mine looks like something out of a magazine as well, yet you can tell this was made from love, though.

“Come.” Issac walked next to me, being careful how he walks, talks, stepping over his words as if I’ll break. Was I an angry person? Or emotional? The frame of the doors is square on the sides, circular on the top, lined across were windows. Four in each door. They reflected away from the interior, it was only a big blob inside.

When walking in, I felt more familiar than in my own house. I tried forcing memories that were no longer there. I wanted—needed to remember. Every inch was covered in plants and books of the greats.

“My grandpa will be happy to see you. He’s probably in the garden. First though. You sit and I’ll grab water and a towel.”

My shirt was drenched in puke. That is so gross and dehumanizing. I felt my old self slipping, from the edge, grasping for something, water filling my lungs again. Pushing me down further, where no screams are heard, drowned out by the sea.

I am a prisoner in my head.

The person I was is gone (I’m sure of it), consumed by the dramatic sea, that is my only true home now. The shore looked beautiful, sunlight crisp, falling through the seaglass, reflecting its own beauty. I found myself happy.

This was a memory.

A good one.