Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Outside Circle ❯ Chapter One ( Prologue )

This is my first attempt at an original/sci-fi based fiction. Please, be as rough as you like ^^ I didn't really have any intentions on posting this, but I thought why not? So please, tell me if you like it, and I may continue with it.

The Outside Circle

Chapter One

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The feeling of not being able to move had frightened me the most, initially. But then, hearing words strung together like `induced coma', `hairline fracture', `retrograde amnesia' and `months of rehabilitation ahead', began to worry me further. I couldn't remember anything; and I mean anything. Not my name, my date of birth, who my parents were, where I lived, what I did. Especially not what had happened to land me here in the first place. My entire identity was a mystery unknown to me.

Obviously, I knew one thing, and that was that I had been in an accident of some account. When I had awoken, not so long ago, I knew I was in a hospital. Something must have happened for me to be here in this state. My legs were in thick blue and white padded braces with metal pins screwed into them, sticking up out of my skin. A dull ache throbbed through them both. I groaned sluggishly and looked away, up at the ceiling, horrified by the sight. My arms seemed to be fine, but my neck was in a brace, as well, restricting movement. A cardiograph monitor beeped to one side of my bed and I was vaguely aware of the discomfort of an intravenous drip in my hand. The room was bright and glary, even though out the window it was a dull grey day. It felt like I hadn't opened my eyes for centuries.

Once my vision had come into focus, I didn't recognise the faces of the people that stood clustered around my bedside. I assumed some of them were doctors or triage nurses, judging by what they were wearing. A couple of them had to be people I knew, but didn't remember at this time. I felt languid; slow, not quite with it. I wanted to speak, but words somewhat failed me, like I hadn't spoken for a while, either. Had I forgotten how to talk, too? All that came out was an incoherent grumble from my throat. The strangers started talking amongst themselves, probably noting my failed attempt at speech, and then turned back to me, as if coming to some kind of decision. Was I brain damaged? One of them asked. They were answered only by silence. One man in blue scrubs with a stethoscope draped around his neck squatted down by the railing of the bed, so he was at eye-level with me.

He carried out some basic tests, asking me to follow his fingers with my eyes, blinking once `yes' if I understood him. The people standing around breathed a collective sigh of relief as I blinked once each time. One woman even sobbed. After determining that I wasn't, in fact, a vegetable, he decided to fill me in on just what the hell had happened.

“Lydia,” that word sounded familiar, somehow. “We know you're probably feeling very confused right now, so I am going to attempt to explain what happened to you. My name is Doctor Chamberlain; I'm a trauma specialist here at St Peter's. Your name is Lydia Steenhart; you were in a horse riding accident three weeks ago and were injured very badly. We had to put you into an induced coma if you were to have any chance of survival at all. You have only just woken up; please try not to be alarmed.

“You have two broken legs, a fractured pelvis, and a hairline fracture in one of the vertebrae in your neck, as well as internal injuries. You are extremely lucky not to have been paralyzed, brain-damaged, or worse, but we do understand you may suffer from amnesia for some time.”

He then gestured to the man and woman standing behind him. “Do you recognise your mother or father?”

I looked at them. There was not even a slight glimmer of recognition in my mind in seeing their faces, which looked positively traumatized at the present moment.

“No.”

I spoke, not even recognising my own voice. It sounded hoarse and unpleasant. My tongue felt thick and useless. The woman's face crumpled. I cringed inwardly, knowing she was apparently my mother, but I could not remember her. Dr. Chamberlain continued on in this fashion for some time, explaining what had happened and what would be happening with my recuperation. And so began my lengthy nine-month long recovery.

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