"I did it ... I got you ..." I stammered shaken by a tears of relief and shock at what seemed to be a hallucination, as I was back in the white room where I had woken up again.
"What are you saying?", he asked me confused and out of breath.
"I… I was falling. Aleksej… ", I tried to explain without knowing how to do it. I was so devastated that I couldn't come up with a meaningful sentence.
"Then you remember me now", he hissed with a hint of sarcasm in his voice that left me unsettled.
Aleksej.
Yes, I remembered him, even if for the moment it was just a name and a physical body, devoid of an identity.
A little light of hope and memories of a distant and confused past.
I smiled with relief.
At that moment the doctor and two nurses came running.
I immediately heard the man get angry and shout something. It took me a moment, but then I realized that he was speaking another language.
A language that I gradually felt I knew.
They were talking about post-traumatic shock, reabsorbing brain hemorrhage, anxiolytics, while the man next to me was furious at not being warned about what had just happened and screamed that he was paying them enough to get answers about my health to make me heal.
"We don't know how long it will take, but surely we talk about at least a week", the doctor tried to say in the same foreign language.
"A week?!", the other got angry.
"Discharge her earlier could be risky. The microfracture of the skull takes time and the hemorrhage is not yet completely reabsorbed. In these cases, hospitalization cannot be less than two weeks."
"I don't want to stay here!", I interjected worriedly, clutching that hand to my chest from which I could no longer separate myself.
"You also speak Russian ... Why doesn't that surprise me?" the man hissed nervously, turning to me with a look so sharp that it left me breathless.
With a yank, he freed his hand from my grip.
"No…", I blew softly as if they had blown air out of my lungs.
"Keep her as long as you want, but I want this shame to end", the man growled, getting up from my bed and walking towards the door. Then he looked back at me. "And you, Kendra, have until tomorrow to… get your memory back. The time to play is long over."
"Aleksej", I whispered again in anguish, but he left leaving me at the mercy of myself and those doctors who immediately came to visit me and fill me with questions.
I was frightened because, as the questions increased, the awareness of having a big black hole in my head became more and more clear and vivid inside me.
The question that tormented me was: who am I?
Aleksej was the only thing I remembered.
He was my foothold in order not to drown in anxiety.
I wondered who I was and remembered that he had called me Kendra, but that name meant nothing to me.
I asked the nurses several times about Aleksej, but they didn't seem to want to listen to me.
I felt panic overwhelm me again, but before I could react and run to the only person I remembered, the doctor got a shot and shortly after I fell asleep.
CHAPTER 3
KENDRA
"Kendra, would you like if we try to concentrate and visualize your memories again?", asked the psychologist to whom my neurologist had addressed, after spending two days controlling my panic attacks and my seizures, that had started ever since I realized I had lost my memory.
Unfortunately, even with the psychologist things weren't going much better.
Every time I closed my eyes, I relived the same scene: I falling down the stairs, trying to grab Aleksej's hand.
The doctor had explained to me that this was not a hallucination, but a flashback of what had happened and that caused my hospitalization due to the injuries, including a skull fracture, a sprained ankle, a fracture of the meniscus, an injury to the right arm, a bruise on the face and a bad wound in the chest whose cause I had not yet understood.
For the doctors I was a miracle worker, because I could have died or been paralyzed due to the fall.
In those two days, I had done a lot of tests and finally the cerebral hemorrhage had disappeared with great relief for everyone.
However, Aleksej had not yet shown himself, and the more time passed, the more restless I felt.
I had repeatedly asked about him and if anyone knew why he was angry with me, everyone had avoided my questions with embarrassment.
"Kendra?" the psychologist called me back, bringing me back to reality.
"I've already told you. I don't remember anything. I don't know my name, where I come from, how I ended up here and, even though I know that the man is called Aleksej, I don't really remember anything about him. I just know that he knows me and he seems very angry with me. I don't understand ... What have I done to him? Why does he know me?"
"Let's try to get back to you."
"I'm sick of being bombarded with questions I can't answer" I blurted out, feeling my headache come back, like every time I fidgeted or struggled to remember.
"I'm just trying to help you".
"So, if you want to help me, call Aleksej. I'm sure he will be able to answer your questions and I will be able ..."
"Will you be able?"
"Nothing", I muttered embarrassed. I didn't want to reveal how alone I felt with my fears and questions, in that hospital bed, surrounded only by strangers.
As much as he scared me, Aleksej was the only memory I had. The only thing that kept me clinging to that shred of rationality, without drowning in madness.
"Mr. Vasilyev is not available at the moment."
"Are you talking about Aleksej?" That surname meant nothing to me.
"Yes."
"Please, I need him. I don't know what I must have done so badly to have made him hate me so much, but if only I could remember… ", I exploded, destroyed, bursting into tears.
"Kendra".
"I'd just like to talk to him and get some answers" I sobbed as my mind returned to the only memory I had, making me want only to reach Aleksej and feel safe.
***
ALEKSEJ
When I saw the name of the clinic's neurologist on my cell phone display, I felt restless for a moment.
"I hope there is some news" I began without preamble.
"Not what you expect, but ... "
"Then I am not interested" I cut short irritably.
"Mr. Vasilyev, please, you must believe me if I tell you that there is a real possibility that the patient is suffering from retrograde amnesia due to the severe head trauma reported. However, we are only talking about a mnemonic gap linked exclusively to memories, but not to gestures and behaviors. Even her language has not been damaged and the woman passes from Russian to English without the slightest difficulty. Not to mention that short-term or post-traumatic memory is intact."
"I do not care! I want to know what she's been doing to me in the past eight months" I snapped, slamming my fist on the desk.
"There are chances that memory will come back" the doctor stammered uncomfortably.
"I cannot believe. You are one of the best neurologists on the market, but you are so stupid that you have not yet understood that this amnesia thing is just a hoax."
"There are still many questions in my field, but I can assure you that there was and still is an injury" the offended doctor replied dryly. "Rather, I advise you to visit the woman."
"If she hasn't already run away."
"Run away?" It's impossible! Her room is under constant surveillance, as you requested. Furthermore, the patient's health conditions are still too precarious to walk alone for more than a few meters."
"Has she already asked you for a cell phone?"
"Yes."
"Seen? I was right! She is trying to cheat you!"
"She just asked us to call you. Repeatedly" the man countered.
"Me?"
"Yes. The psychologist claims that a sort of addiction has been created towards you because of her only memory. Kendra Palmer is suffering a lot, she feels alone and abandoned. She has no one and she suffers a lot from this amnesia. Our advice is to go back and talk to her, trying to put aside the hatred you feel, unless you want to tell her the truth."
"I'll never play her sneaky games."
"I don't think she is playing, but if you want to have answers, I think you are the only one who can have them. You have already managed to get her a memory. Who knows if your closeness won't make others emerge."
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