I awoke to the gentle hum of the machine beside me, a soft beeping rhythmically monitoring every heartbeat and the activity around it. Gradually, I opened my eyes, glancing at the room’s ceiling. The pale walls mirrored the glow of the fluorescent lights suspended above, creating an ethereal ambiance. The large window overlooking the city revealed it was sunset; the sky was a lively orange, and the sun barely shone through the tall buildings. The white curtains were hauled around by the wind coming from the air conditioning just below the window, spreading the scent of hand sanitizer and latex around the room.

A wave of panic crept through my body —my knowledge of the surroundings and the events leading up to my presence here was painfully limited. As I grappled with uncertainty, a warm hand gently touched my arm. The comforting heat radiating from it enveloped me, and when I turned my head, I discovered a woman looking at me with a soft smile as if acknowledging the moment I became aware of her presence.

Her eyes were tired and sad with a glimpse of what the woman once was shining through them. Her black hair, clearly matted, looked like it hadn’t been brushed in weeks. By the look of the belongings next to the door, it appeared as if she had been spending her time in the chair from across the bed and rarely leaving it. She had a small pile of personal items, including a notebook with meticulous notes and cryptic symbols, some old food wrappers, and a medium bag with clothing shuffled around it.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, It has been a while”

I looked deeper into her face, attempting to remember who the woman across from me was. My head pounded as I analyzed her skin, which was filled with deep wrinkles, making her look older than she probably was. She was wearing a red string shirt showing her skin. Her long, bare arms had some muscle in them, but they were not necessarily the type you would see on the body of a person who goes to the gym daily. Still, they were clearly defined, as if she spent much time doing heavy-duty activities. My eyes traveled through her and settled on a small white crescent moon on her right shoulder.

A man began pacing around her, and he paused to observe me as I shifted my weight in the bed, my body gradually awakening from what felt like the longest slumber. His face was gentle and rounded, a white beard framing his lips as though they were mere whispers beneath its cover. His large green eyes sparked with light upon noticing my movement, and his nose seemed to flare in anticipation as if he held his breath for that fleeting moment.

Time hung suspended for what felt like an eternity. Finally, the man turned his attention to the woman across from me and spoke. His voice was deep and rough.

“Ren” – His eyes blazed, probably remembering a time when I didn’t look how I felt; there wasn’t a mirror around, so I couldn’t see the shape I was really in, but I could feel it, my arms weakened, like glass that already had a crack going through, waiting to break, my legs numbed possibly from being on the same position for too long; My chest filling me with air and pain on every breath.

“Ren…” the man proceeded, he repeated my name, I was sure of it. Slower this time, he started taking steps towards me, walking at a sluggish pace, probably not to scare me off; he was gentle in his approach, his voice a couple of octaves down, as if he was talking to a deer that just got hit by a car, attempting to show it some empathy and calmness. The man sat on the bed and approached my hand but didn’t touch it.

“I’m happy to see you awake. I wasn’t sure if you would make it back of this one,” the man said, his voice sounding like it was about to break.

I looked up at him, confused. My memory of the events that took me to this moment is not there anymore; the longer I tried to remember, the longer it hurt, making my brain feel like a ticking time bomb. I only had what little information the man was offering. The woman across from me moved her chair closer than before and exchanged a quick, worried look with the man.

“Ren – do you know where you are?” said the woman. That was an easy question to answer; the clues all around me pointed me to the most obvious answer—a hospital.

I nodded.

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The woman took the nod in and exhaled in relief, but it led to another question that I couldn’t quite answer for her.

“Ren,” Her voice lowered. “Do you remember how you ended up here?”

The man seemed surprised by the question. He looked between her and me; his eyes widened, and his eyebrows raised and curved, the wrinkles across his forehead more noticeable than before. I looked at them, and a deep sense of familiarity filled my mind, the same way that you would experience a deja vu.

“No.” I finally answered.

Although I could feel the words trying to get out of me, that simple ‘no’ took much more of me than I expected. As soon as I finished saying the word, they both looked at each other; the man’s face, previously surprised, was now terrified. The woman took the chair back, making a horrible screeching sound. The woman, pensive about the situation in front of her, adjusted her posture around the chair. Bringing her arm to a resting place and her fingers tapping in her mouth, she was probably thinking the best way to phrase the next question or address what I had just said to her. She looked like she was about to say another word when the doctor came in.

A strikingly handsome doctor entered the room. His face was adorned with a broad smile that exuded confidence and purpose. His bright blue eyes sparkled, complemented by the hue of his light blue shirt. Despite the seasoned assurance in his gaze, he appeared remarkably young, almost defying the possibility of completing medical school in his mid-twenties. His slicked-back blonde hair accentuated a sharp chin and well-defined cheekbones, adding to his overall air of professionalism and allure. He was deep in thought when he walked in. I could only notice this due to his delayed realization of my awakened state. When he finally noticed, his smile grew more prominent than before.

He had in his hands what appeared to be my chart and looked at me.

“Ah! – Rennee Daxon, what a lovely surprise. We didn’t expect you to be up yet; this is all new to us, but…”

My expression changed after he finished that sentence. He must have noticed it because he abruptly stopped what he was about to say. His face changed along mine, his eyes darkened, and his smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

“They haven’t told you yet?” the doctor asked.

The woman and the man looked at him with very distinguishable worried looks on their faces, their eyebrows put together, and both holding their breath for the next possible sentence. The woman stood up and addressed the doctor.

“We haven’t yet; we think something is wrong; she doesn’t seem to remember.”

The white-bearded man nodded, looking at the woman, agreeing with the recap of the events just moments before the handsome doctor showed up.

“I see.”

He approached me and brought up a small light to my eyes; then, he proceeded to listen to my heart.

“Nothing out of the ordinary here – You are remarkably healthy for everything you have endured.” He then took a step back and positioned himself in between the couple. “Tell me, Rennee, what is the last thing you remember? Anything would do.”

I held a blank stare after he asked me this question. It got me thinking: This wasn’t just about what had happened to me, but how could I articulate the unsettling reality that my memory was a fragmented puzzle with significant pieces missing? How could I explain to the people standing in front of me who so clearly had been by my side for who knows how long that, as far as I was concerned, they didn’t exist because I didn’t know them?

I made one last attempt to put myself together and remember what my life was like before today. No luck. It just brought up a headache that made me put my hands just underneath my forehead, giving it a slight massage to relieve the pain.

“My name, I remember my name,” I asserted, seeking solace in the only fragment of certainty within my grasp.

All three of them glanced at each other; it was evident that my answer fell short of their expectations. The doctor took another step forward before asking.

“And what else do you remember?” He inquired gently, acknowledging the delicate nature of my situation.

“That’s it, I can’t remember anything past that,” I said low enough for him to hear but not loud enough for me to feel like it was real.

“That’s okay, Rennee. I’m Dr. Orion, your primary caretaker, and this is Mr. and Mrs. Daxon. I will give you some space to get acquainted,”and so he did.

He left the room with my chart and mentioned a couple more things about some other tests that needed to be performed and how he would schedule them as soon as he could, but he also gave me some time to get my feelings back together.

The woman and the man exchanged one more meaningful glance. They looked like they were having a silent conversation with each other. I didn’t dare to say the first word partially because I didn’t even know where to begin. Especially because to me, I was born today.