The Rush (55 page)

             
I was in the photo.

             
I looked at the mirror and recognized the middle girl as the girl in the mirror. I took it from her hands and looked at myself. I turned my head side to side and squinted and grimaced. The girl was moving like I was, but I had no idea who she was. She looked as confused as I felt. I looked back at the picture and examined…myself. She was wearing a pink tank top with jean shorts. Her hair was in a messy blonde ponytail and she had one hand on her hip and the other around the girl's shoulder. One of her legs was lifted a bit to lean on the toe. Cheerleader immediately rambled through my head. I almost vomited right there. "I'm a cheerleader?"

             
"Why, yes," she answered gently. "You love it."

             
My grimaced spread. "I can't imagine myself loving that. Or pink."

             
It hit me then. Like really sank in. I had no idea who I was. I had forgotten a whole life that no longer belonged to me. I felt the tear slide down my cheek before the sob erupted from my throat. I pushed the pictures away, but kept the mirror. I turned to my side and buried my face in my pillow, clutching the mirror to my chest. My body did this little hiccup thing and I cried even harder because I couldn’t even remember doing that before.

             
The man and woman continued to stand at the foot of my bed when the doctor came in. I looked at him through my wet lashes. When he spoke, his voice sounded familiar. "Emma, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but it appears that you've developed amnesia from your accident. We’ll have to run lots of tests, but the good news is that in more cases than not, the amnesia is temporary."             

             
I jolted and wiped my chin clear of tears. "You mean I could remember one day?"

             
"That's right."

             
"Don’t get her hopes up," I heard from the doorway and turned to find the man-boy. My heart leapt a little. He was the only person that I remembered. Well from when I woke up at least. He felt like some awkward lifeline I needed to latch onto. He shook his head. "Every case is different. She may never remember anything."

             
"Mason," the man yelled, making me jump at the volume of it, and shot daggers at him across my bed, "this doesn't concern you."

             
"She's been in my care for six months," he growled vehemently and then glanced at me. He did a double take when he saw me awake and looking at him. I had no idea what the expression on my face may have been, but he softened immediately and came to stand beside…my parents.

             
"Isabella. Rhett," he said and nodded to them as they did in turn. He was on a first name basis with my parents. He wasn't wearing scrubs like the nurse. He was in khakis and a button up shirt, the sleeves rolled almost to his elbows. His name tag said "Mason Wright - Occupational Therapy". He looked at me with affection that showed the truth behind his words. "I'm Mason, Emma. I've been doing all of your physical therapy while you've been…asleep."

             
"You look a little young," my mouth blurted. I covered my lips with my fingers, but he laughed like he was embarrassed.

             
He swiped his hand through his hair and glanced around the room. "Yeah… So anyway, I'll be continuing your care now that you're awake. You'll have some muscle atrophy and some motor skills that will need to be honed again." I nodded. "But, from what I've seen from working with you these past months, I'll think you'll be fine in that department."

             
"Working with me? Like moving my legs while I was asleep?"

             
"Mmhmm. And your arms, too. It keeps your muscles from completely forgetting what they're supposed to do." He smiled.

             
I wanted to smile back at him, but feared that I didn't know how with this face. Plus, my body was exhausted just from this little interaction. He must have seen that, too, because he turned to the tall man who had yelled at him before. "She needs her rest."

             
"I know that," he said indignantly. "However, the news crew will be here later on." He turned a bright smile on the woman that was supposed to be my mother. "She'll do an interview with them and tell everyone all about her ordeal. I'm sure you could even get a deal on a big story to the-"

             
My father spoke up, putting a protective hand on my foot. "You set up an interview with the press the day she wakes up…and don't even get our permission first?"

             
They all kept talking around me. Mason started defending me along with my parents. The man apologized half heartedly and I assumed he was the head doctor or some hospital head from the way he was acting.

             
My mind buzzed and cleared in intervals. I lost all track of time and eventually just turned to let my cheek press against the grainy pillow. My throat hurt from the tubes that had been keeping me alive.

             
Only to wake up to a reality that was more fiction than non.

             
My eyes still knew how to cry though and I tried to keep myself quiet as I let the tears fall. I thought I'd definitely earned them. Eventually the room quieted and the lights were turned off, all but the small lamp beside my bed. The phone on my bedside stand had a small list of numbers, for emergencies I assumed, but the name on the top of the card was what caught my eye. 'Regal City Hospice'.

             
Mason had been right. I wasn't even in a real hospital. They hadn't intended for me to wake up.

             
I wondered if that fact had put a kink in someone's plans. 

End of Preview

You can find info on Shelly and her books at her website

http://shellycrane.blogspot.com/