Slowly pulling away, Bethany turned her gaze to the window, as though ashamed of something. "I just never realized until now that things had gotten this bad. I just remember you always spent more time on your phone texting Rowan back and forth, instead of talking with us when we were all together. And to be honest, it upset me--but I guess I never stopped to consider why, or how scared you must've been. So if I ever made things more difficult back when we were younger, I'm sorry."
Faith hesitated. "You would be right, about being scared. Even simple things like getting the mail were terrifying because of Spencer's threats. And even once the letters stopped and he got arrested, Rowan hid it from me, I guess so it would look like he still needed protection. But, anyway...I'm sorry too, for not listening to you all when you said Rowan might be using me, that he might not be that different from his family."
"Well, Spencer's in prison and so will Aaron be soon--and most importantly, we're even now," Bethany smiled comfortingly. "But--who told you the truth about Spencer anyway?"
Faith looked away, picking at the cuticle of her fingernail. "It was Aaron."
Bethany scrunched up her face. "Him? But why would he even care enough to tell you that?"
"It's complicated. To be honest, sometimes I think--" Faith suddenly stopped herself.
"You think he what? Did a memory come back to you?"
"No, I-- Actually, never mind," Faith said uneasily, not wanting to overshare even with her cousin. "Don't mind me. I think being in this hospital is just getting to me, messing with my head."
Bethany looked confused, as though she were about to ask for more details, but a knock at the door would stop her from pursuing the matter any further.
"So, do your mom and I get a turn to visit, or what?" came the voice of her uncle, carrying a mixture of impatience and playfulness.
"Sorry!" Bethany called from inside. "Well, that's my cue. See you soon!" She waved as she gathered her purse and opened the door for Faith's aunt and uncle.
I just hope I didn't confuse Bethany too much a minute ago, Faith thought, but was soon distracted by a relieving sight, not only because of her aunt and uncle themselves and their smiling faces, but a bag of takeout hanging over her uncle's arm which he soon sat on the table beside her.
"Hey there!" her aunt greeted her. "We picked a little something up for you, just in case you might be getting tired of that hospital food."
"Oh--thank you," Faith nodded with great emphasis. She must have spoken with overly dramatic relief, because her uncle immediately began chuckling.
"Looks like we came to the rescue just in time," he grinned.
Faith hadn't eaten very much ever since she had arrived to the hospital. She may not have been so paranoid that the hospital staff would necessarily try to poison her, but that didn't change the fact the food here had often felt poisonous to her taste buds.
At first, her relatives simply smiled at her with a mix of relief and possibly sympathy, and fortunately they didn't ask her any questions while her mouth was full, but as soon as she was through eating, it was down to business.
"So..." her uncle began, clasping his hands together. His face was calm, but the look in his eyes gave away his genuine concern. "What's been going on? Is there anything we can do?"
Once the visits from family and friends had died down, Faith began to grow restless. Her parents and Sherm continued to visit her whenever they could, but the conversations had slowly drifted from whether she was okay to practical topics such as when she would return to work or get from her house to the grocery store or friends' houses without a vehicle until it could be repaired as well.
The kind of soreness which she had never felt before this entire incident had at first made her afraid to move too much, but the TV in her room was now failing to distract her from her problems, and one of her nurses had encouraged her earlier that day to start doing some gentle laps around the halls. She knew her head would start hurting if she tried to sleep anymore today, so gingerly and reluctantly, she rose from her bed and made her way to the hallway.
While leaving her room didn't make her feel much better emotionally, she reminded herself it would still help physically. It had been such a relief to get out of that hospital gown and into something that made her feel human again, even if it was just a hoodie and sweatpants brought by her parents.
Hm, maybe this was a good idea after all, Faith thought to herself as she completed her first lap. I guess it could always be worse. A lot of these people here are probably paralyzed or unable to walk at all. It felt good, slowly getting some sense of normality back little by little, even though she found her breathing to be heavier as she began her second lap. Once she had tried to start her third lap, she found herself in desperate need to find somewhere--anywhere--to sit down, before she finished making her way back to her room.
Almost like an oasis in a desert, she spotted a solarium around the corner, where she could get some decent sunlight and have a scenic look at the outside world. Thankfully, she didn't see any other people around, so she could simply rest and regain her composure in peace. Hugging her core and sinking down into a soft chair next to the floor-to-ceiling window, she continued to try and get her breathing under control.
Faith figured the quickest way to make the discomfort go away would be to simply dissociate, and focus on things like the cars moving past down below. She decided to make a game out of how many cars she could count before feeling as though she could safely get up and get back to her room, having exhausted most all other entertainment options like TV or magazines, and she was in no mood to socialize, so she would only stay here as long as she needed to. It was too frustrating to try to keep up with counting all of the cars moving in both directions, so she decided to only focus on the ones moving to the right for now.
She had gotten up to 54 cars in total when a faint whirring sound approached from nearby, probably either from a wheelchair or some other hospital equipment that Bethany would easily know the name of. Faith was fine with sharing the space, but made it a point not to look behind her, hoping the other person would get the hint. Fortunately, no other noise followed, and Faith figured the patient or staff member causing the sound had either moved on or at least had the decency to not bother her.
Eventually, after about 120 cars in total, Faith figured it was time for her to head back to her room. She still felt winded, but it was an improvement from how she had felt a few minutes ago. Okay...you can do this. It's not that far.
Turning away from the window and facing forward, Faith hugged herself once more and began to stand up. She saw a wheelchair with someone in it out of the corner of her eye, so she pointedly kept her head down with the full intention of heading back to her room without having to say a word to anybody. However, what was to come next would be something she never would have thought to mentally prepare herself for.
"How're ya' doin', sweetheart?"
Faith didn't have to look up to know who it was, but she did nonetheless, and what she saw combined with the raspy greeting was enough to make her jump out of her skin, sending a jolt of pain coursing through her body. Drawing in a sharp breath and feeling her eyes water, she crumpled back down into her seat. If nothing else, Faith could rest assured that Aaron was in no state to hurt anyone now.
Still clad in a hospital gown, looking as though he was past due for a shave, and considerably paler than how she last remembered seeing him, Faith noticed the IV machine he was hooked up to and one of his arms inside of a medical sling. For a moment, all she could do was stare. The only surviving traits that made him still somewhat recognizable was his dark wavy hair, albeit without all the gel, and his eyes--calculating and analytical, but with a hint of boyish amusement at her startled frame. Whatever had happened to the both of them, he had been hit much harder than she had. So it WAS him that I saw when I first came here with Sherm...
Suddenly, a brief image--or perhaps a memory--flashed across her mind. She stood in front of a window in a dimly lit office, with bright colorful clouds outside. Mixed with that image were emotions--not only fear, but an ever-so-small amount of hope that still lingered even as some form of imminent danger lurked behind her.
"Oh," he croaked out nonchalantly as he met Faith's terrified eyes. "That bad, huh?"
Faith winced, due to a mixture of her own pain, the flashback, and the shocking sight Aaron was. "What do you want?"
"Same thing you do. A change of--scenery."
Faith could only shrug and look away. All she really wanted was to get back to her room so she could jot down what she could of what might easily be a missing piece to this twisted mental puzzle.
"Aren't you gonna--ask how--I got this way?"
"I suppose it would be the polite thing to do," she said blankly. Since she couldn't exactly run out of there like she would have otherwise done, she knew she had to find out what she could, until the time came for her and her lawyer to answer to the authorities. It seemed he was not only vulnerable on a physical level, but a mental one too, judging by the way he had trouble with longer sentences. "So then, I guess I could start with your voice. Did all that chain-smoking finally catch up to you?"
"No. I was--out, for ten hours," he labored to say. "Not been awake for too long. The doctors--said they put a--tube down my throat. That's why I--sound like this."
"Oh." Sounds like more things my cousin would understand a lot better than me. She dreaded asking the next question, but she had to know the truth. "Do you know who did this to you?" she asked carefully.
Aaron shrugged with his good shoulder. "Don't--know. I'll find out though. I--still know who I am and all that. But everything else, everything after Happy Scoops got closed down--is just a blur. Except..." He let his words trail off, simply staring Faith in the face, almost as though he was struggling to recollect something, the same as she had been trying to do for the past few days.
Meanwhile, Faith could hardly believe the two of them could be going through the exact same phenomenon with their memories, though his case appeared to be more due to physical reasons. "Except what?" she asked, softening her voice and wanting to appear as patient as possible so he would trust her. A pang of sadness briefly accompanied the stomach pain, as she hadn't used that fawning tone on anyone ever since Rowan had left.
"You," he uttered simply, using his good hand to point at her. His eyes were bloodshot and tired, but his gaze was unwavering. "Your scared little face, before everything--went black."
Faith froze. Could all of this have really been me? But how, though?!
"I was thinkin' about it, in my room today," Aaron continued hoarsely. "I was thinkin' it--must've been you, since you're the last person I remember seein'. But then I thought to myself..." He began to laugh, only for his smarmy grin to become a grimace of agony as he clutched his head with his good hand and doubled over in pain.
Knowing she had to think fast in convincing him otherwise--and avoid drawing attention--Faith continued with the gentle voice. "Hey--don't upset yourself, okay? I'm not here to hurt you. I'm a patient too, remember? So how could I have done this to you?"
Eventually, he managed to calm himself so he could finish his sentence. "I thought...it couldn't...have been you. How could you have possibly done all this?"
Faith was now fuming on the inside, but decided to take this as a much-needed advantage. "Exactly. So there's nothing to worry about."
"St--still...why is your face--the only thing I remember? Why'd you look--so terrified? Unless..."
"I don't know," Faith cut him off abruptly. This was her cue to leave, if she didn't want Aaron to beat her at her own psychological game with the wits he might have still had left. "I'm not you, nor am I a mind reader. Besides, how do you know that's a real memory and not just a side effect from the boatload of medicine they probably gave you? Anyway, you can believe whatever you want. I'm going back to my room."
"Wait," Aaron said, a sense of urgency evident through the hoarseness in his voice. "Can you--take me back to mine?"
"Why would I do that?" Faith asked, one eyebrow raised. "I don't work here. I'm sure as long as you haven't given the nurses a difficult time, they'll come back to fetch you soon."
"Oh--I get it. You're probably tired. Well, maybe we'll--talk again, when I'm a little more...presentable, and you're--in more of a mood to talk."
Either he's trying to scare me, or he genuinely doesn't realize that day will never come without a security window between the two of us. Faith figured he must have been quite the difficult patient, for them to just wheel him out here in his condition. With no logical reason left to be chatty with the man who lied to Sheena and very likely put her here in the first place, Faith shuffled with as much dignity as she could muster back to her room, her pain having let up none too soon.
Closing the door behind her and returning to the refuge of her bed, she reached for the decorative notebook and mechanical pencil her aunt and uncle had given to her when they visited. For the next half hour, she jotted down what she could of her short flashback and even tried to draw what she could remember of it. She was by no means as good an artist as Rowan was, but maybe it would give the authorities something to go on nonetheless. Ugh...why did I have to think of Rowan again? He could've really made something of himself as an artist, if he hadn't lost his mind, if he had let me keep him safe, if...if I hadn't let him out that door. And what if he's dead now? What if I caused his death?
Faith shook her head, as though doing so might cause those thoughts to run out of her ears like trapped water. Time for some background noise, she thought as she turned her TV on once more before returning to her notebook. I may not be as good an artist as Rowan, or have a very good memory lately, but I can still show those police officers and detectives that I'm still human for when they inevitably want to look at the pages of this book. At least her notebook didn't have a list of victims' names and addresses, unlike a certain someone.
Once she had written down everything she could remember from her flashback, she moved on to attempting to draw Sheena, and then Bethany, and then Sherm and Violet. She decided to limit her drawings to just those four for now, so she would still have plenty of space to write down any other new memories that came to her later.
After channel flipping for a few minutes, Faith finally settled onto a local news station, hoping they might report on something that could trigger more memories. ...But she would get much, much more than she bargained for from the TV tonight. "In other news tonight, we have a very tragic story," the young wavy-haired woman began. "Twenty-seven year-old Rowan Frost has officially been declared dead, after a long history of mental illness and abuse at the hands of relatives and other caretakers. Police said in a statement that the individuals ultimately responsible for his death will receive justice to the full extent of the law. More details about this case are soon to follow."
Rough hands grabbed hold of her from behind, and soon Faith found herself inside the back of a police van, next to Spencer, Aaron and several other rough-looking individuals. She looked desperately for her friends, her family, or a police officer with even a hint of friendliness, but there was no one of the kind around. If she wanted to live through this, she would need an ally in here--and she would have to choose fast.
Soon, the van door opened again. "Faith?"
"No!" Faith abruptly sat up, gasping for breath before huddling into the fetal position to protect herself from the pain she was suddenly experiencing. "You don't understand! I'm not like them! I really tried to stop it! I didn't mean for--!"
"Faith, hon, calm down. I'm just here to check on you, okay?"
Realizing she was never actually inside of a police van, Faith noticed her sterile but calm surroundings and the concerned scrubs-clad woman in front of her. Okay--I need to stop. This could get embarrassing at best and incriminating at worst.
"You're perfectly safe--this is just a routine check-in. Were you having a nightmare?"
Faith nodded slowly. "Right...sorry. Yeah, it must have been that. Also..." Faith hesitated, pondering what she should share and what she should withhold for now. "I think I have a new memory."
The nurse's eyes widened. "Well, that's a good sign. Can you tell me what new things you remember?"
"It doesn't make much sense, but it was a window, in a dimly lit room. Maybe an office? I'm not sure. I just remember staring at the clouds through the window, like I wanted out but couldn't leave, and feeling all these mixed emotions."
"Okay. And did anything happen today that would cause you to feel unsafe, that might've triggered this memory?" When Faith hesitated, the nurse added, "If you don't feel comfortable sharing, you don't have to."
"Okay. To be honest, I don't feel comfortable. I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize. Let's move on to checking your vitals, okay?"
Once her vitals were taken and a few more routine questions were asked, Faith was once again left alone in her room. Am I going to have to deal with nightmares too, along with this amnesia? Faith wondered. Her mind then shifted to the solarium that triggered the original flashback, and she wondered if returning to that area might trigger anything more before she would be discharged, or if it would take Aaron being present to cause enough of a reaction to trigger something. Wait...did anyone even get him back to his room yet? It couldn't be good for him, spending too long outside his bed like that in his condition. Wait--why do I even care? It's not like he would do the same for me, unless maybe he had something to gain from it.
Faith tried to turn her attention back to the TV, making sure to avoid any news stations for now, but it was no use. Once again rising up from her bed, she begrudgingly put on her shoes and headed down the hallway. He'd better not make me regret this.
Sure enough, she spotted a wheelchair still sitting in the solarium area, in the exact spot she had left him in, but she still approached carefully just to make sure it was still the same patient inside the chair. At first she said nothing upon approaching the wheelchair, bending downward to see if its occupant was still awake. Though an automotive magazine lay open in his lap, his eyes were indeed shut.
Faith sighed, hoping his irritability wouldn't match hers once she woke him. "Hey--Aaron?"
Aaron groaned before fluttering his eyelids open and painstakingly raising his head. "Well...look--who's back," he rasped.
"Not for long. I'm just taking you back to your room. Do you remember which way it is?"
"Heh--you'd do that?" While he didn't actually say the words 'thank you', the relief on his face was unmistakable. "Y'know, you're a real angel--when you wanna be."
Me...an angel? Even in spite of who those words were coming from, Faith felt her shoulders relax at such a welcome compliment, given the nightmare she had recently awakened from.
"I'm--just around the corner. Look for Room 303."
"Actually, that won't be necessary," came a new voice behind them, its owner clad in a lab coat, khaki pants and... Army boots? In a hospital? Eyeing Faith, the strangely dressed but oddly familiar figure told her, "Why don't you run along back to your bed? You don't need to be pushing this heavy wheelchair."
I've seen this person somewhere. Whoever's under that mask, they're not a nurse, let alone a doctor.
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and then Add to home screen.