The darkness envelopes me as I sat on my hospital bed. The room was pitch black apart from a single red light next to me. Heart rate monitor. It kept beeping. It was so loud. My ears hurt from the sound.

Beep

Beep

Beep

I wanted to break it, to silence it. But the nurses would be here.

I'm starting to believe I'm like all the others in this hospital.

Starting to go insane.

I'm not insane.

All I wanted to do was escape from everyone.

The party.

I smashed the window. My eye.

The glass.

Ashley.

I remember that name. I don't remember the face. I don't remember the owner.

Someone entered the room. A nurse. She switched on the light.

"Hello, Katherine. How is your eye today?"

It was fine.

"That's good. I'm here to give you your medication."

I don't need my medication.

"Your doctor prescribed it."

I don't like him.

"How was your sleep?"

It was fine. I slept fine.

"That's good."

She put a new bandage over my eye.

"You're doing very well, Kathrine."

Am I really?

"I'll be back later."

She walked out and switched off the light. The room was plunged into darkness once again. The cold air conditioning blowing against my face.

This couldn't be it, could it?

Probably is.

Maybe I am insane.

I hadn't brushed my hair in a few days. Not since I washed it.

I should brush it.

I stood up from my bed and grabbed the brush.

I don't want to be stuck here.

My mum said I had pretty hair.

I missed my mum.

I sat in the office facing him.

"What happened to you, Katherine?" He said. My doctor.

Nothing.

"No need to be salty."

I'm not being salty.

"All I want for you is to get better. I know you need help."

I don't want to talk right now.

"There's no need for that attitude."

I'm not having an attitude.

On the table were flowers. Daisies.

"You know how much I you want you to get better."

I am better.

"Then why are you here, then?"

I didn't reply.

~~

I washed my hands at the sink in the bathroom, party music blaring through the door. I turned off the tap and shook my hands, and looked up at mirror.

The dress I was wearing was pretty. White with purple flowers. I loved this dress. My mum got it for me some time ago. My hair was let down and wavy. I looked so nice.

The music outside the door stopped. I continued to stare in the mirror.

The lights outside the bathroom switched off.

I stared into the mirror. I reached out to touch the reflection.

Just a dream.

The party.

When I jumped out the window.

I can't remember why I jumped out the window. I just remember something bad was going to happen.

Something very bad.

And they took me here. I can't remember what happened to the others. What happened to the other people at the party.

I can't remember who was at the party.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

All I remember was that bathroom.

And that mirror.

And the song that was playing.

My nurse was nice. I don't know why I held such a grudge towards her. She never did anything wrong.

Maybe it was because she worked at this place. Maybe it was because she was helping me.

"So how have you been?" My doctor asked.

I've been fine.

"Is the medication helping?"

I suppose.

"That's good."

I guess.

My nurse told me that writing helps unravel the mind. Maybe she's right. Of course she's right, she's a nurse. She's probably dealt head-cases like me before. I am crazy.

What happened at the party?

~~

The song that was playing at the party was Heather. Of course it was Conan Gray.

I remember Ashley use to love Conan Gray.

I can't remember who Ashley was. I can't remember what she looked like. But I remember her voice. She had a warm voice. They type that made you feel happy when you heard it. The type of voice that would bury itself so far into your mind, that you'd have to be dead to forget it.

Maybe that's how I know I'm not dead.

Ashley probably is, though.

The nurse checked up on me. My favourite nurse.

She brushed out my hair for me and braided it.

She said I had beautiful hair. Black and wavy. She said I looked unique.

Maybe that's because I have a patch over an eye.

Doubt a lot of people have that.

I don't want to see my doctor again. But they said I have to.

They said he's helping me.

I don't think he is, really.

"So, how are you doing?" My doctor asked.

Fine.

"The nurses told me you seem happier."

I suppose.

"That's good. That's progress. What's making you happier?"

I don't know.

They told me I would get out soon. That my eye shouldn't get infected.

I haven't seen what my eye looks like. I don't want to.

I don't understand why I jumped out of that window.

I remember how it broke. I threw a chair at it.

Maybe my doctor is helping me remember.

Probably not.

~~

Stars are really pretty. I always loved space. It's so beautiful. I wonder what it would be like to fly to the moon.

Ashley told me we'd go to space together. Told me we would be rich someday. Get a rocket.

I wonder if Ashley is in the stars now.

I leave the hospital tomorrow.

I have one last appointment with my doctor.

"So, how are you feeling about leaving?" He said.

Good.

"That's great. Your eye is better. You still have amnesia?"

No.

I was lying.

I kept picking up little things that reminded me of Ashley. Like how she loved daisies. She would have them in her hair.

Her hair. She had frizzy ginger hair. She always had it in two plaits. And she had this smile.

Her smile was like the sun. She was the sun. The light everyone needed.

You never knew how much you needed her until she was gone.

~~

They discharged me from the hospital.

It was a cloudy day. Looked like it was going to storm. Fine by me. I never liked sunny days.

I found out what happened that night.

Someone got too drunk. They set the house on fire.

Not many people got out in time. But I, Katherine Ambrose, miraculously survived by jumping from a two story building.

You can call me fortunate. You could even call me lucky.

I don't think so.

I could be lucky, fortunate. But I was never a fun person. I wasn't the person who should've lived. Someone else could've jumped from that burning building. Someone who could've lived a happier life. Who had something to live for.

Someone who was fun. Kind.

Someone who wasn't me.

So, I'm lucky.

Put yourself in my shoes, and call yourself that when you stand in front of Ashley's grave.