Twelve

by PandoraBoxable

Rating: mature
Tags: Dark, Human, Sad, Adventure
Length: 2315

Strong concussion, acute memory loss, and a strange world. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. And I am working my hardest to find a way out.

I've suffered severe damage to my brain, and most of my memories are in shambles, unattached, waiting to be reconnected. I've been in the hospital for two days, and I can't remember anything short-term before the "accident." If it even was an accident. I don't know how to get home, wherever that is. I need help, and the only one who I can turn to is the one who saved my life.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-12-08 02:59:21 UTC

Zero

TWELVE

Written by PandoraBoxable

Attention: This story is rated Mature for blood, gore, and some sensual scenes.

Viewer discretion advised, but you’re just going to read it anyway.

Chapter Zero

“There’s no going back.”

“I know.”

“Only the reaction will bring you home.”

“I understand.”

“I need to be sure.”

“I am sure.”

“You will have twelve days.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You know your objective.”

“Yes.”

“You know the subject.”

“Not yet.”

“But you will?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Wake

TWELVE

Written by PandoraBoxable

This chapter’s theme music is the Piano cover of Periphery’s “Light” by MonkeyL0rd22 on YouTube.

Chapter One

Blood.

Red, sickly red. Spreading on the pavement.

My hand reached up and felt my forehead.

Warm. Wet.

I brought it back down.

Dripping.

My hair was matted onto my forehead, stuck fiber to fiber from the naturally adhesive substance.

I could feel black encroaching on my vision. My draining lifeforce suffered under the effort of cell production.

Footsteps.

A hand on my shoulder, rolling me onto my side.

My eyes were lidded. I could make out quick changes in light.

The voices were muffled by my fading consciousness.

I was being moved.

I was thrown onto a padded slab and dragged backwards.

Moving.

A bump. A sudden stop caused me to lurch forward and empty my stomach contents on my lap. A hand on my forehead, pressing something against it.

My small hand reached out and I felt another gingerly grab it, holding on.

I managed a smile before slipping away.

“Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.”

A sigh escaped my lips at the untoward awakening from my gentle slumber. My mouth was chapped and an awful taste permeated my mouth. Too much drinking before sleep? Maybe last night was crazy. I struggled to move my mouth, finding the words I wanted to say. None came, so I settled on the next best thing.

“G… g… the… al… alarm…” I let out a small cough and doubled over, my eyes flying open. Not minding the burning sensation in the back of my optic nerve, I frantically searched around my sides to find any container to hold the oncoming flood. Finding a small bucket with paper lining, I grabbed it and lifted it up to my face, just in time to hold the viscous bile spewing from the depths of my being. I vomited for what felt like minutes before the river abated, and I placed the bucket beside me once more, the fluid contents swishing about as I put it down. The beeping to my right intensified and I heard footsteps running towards me, converging from all sides. I held my knees tight to my chest and shook.

A door swung open, creaking on old brass hinges that filled the room with an unpleasant harmonic. The footsteps reached my side now, and a hand was placed on my forehead which sent a jolt of pain running through my scalp and down my spine. I let out a gasp of air and the hand was quickly snatched away, instead settling on my upper back. A few clicks sounded on my right, which silenced the incessant beeping. A pillow was pushed up against my lower back and I was lightly pushed over onto my back, my head lightly tapping onto another pillow behind me. Muffled voices around me spoke back and forth in hushed tones, slipping past my ears. I heard the smack of latex being pulled onto flesh and felt a gloved hand feel my forehead again, the pain worse than before. I winced and rose my arm to swat the hand away, but another hand grabbed me from the side and pinned me down the on the bed. Another voice spoke, but I couldn’t understand it.

“H… huh?” I managed to croak out, coughing again yet not feeling the urge to retch.

“I said, does this hurt?” The voice was male and hard, almost curt.

“Yeah… yeah…” I feebly stammered.

“Good.” The hand retreated.

Good? My pain was good? I tried to open my eyes again but was blinded by the bright white around me. My left eye was wrenched open and a blinding light, much brighter than the whites of the room was shoved into my vision. I tried to shut my eye but the fingers holding it open were much to strong.

Not soon enough the light turned off and I saw the silhouette of a man sitting on the side of my bed, staring at me.

“Do you know where you are?” My eyes darted around the room, quickly growing accustomed to the light level. Machines lined the walls around me, some displaying different messages and graphics. A whiteboard was on the wall across from me showing a form of the human body with notes scrawled in messy handwriting pointing towards different parts of the body. To my right was a wooden door with a small, rectangular window inlaid into the woodwork, as well as another silhouette of what I assumed was a woman due to the bust size. Turning my attention back to the man seated on my bed I could make out a few of the definitions on his face. He wore wide brimmed glasses and had what could only be described as a tidy mess of facial hair growing above and underneath his mouth.

His gray hair was parted in a sort of combover fashion, probably hiding a small bald spot on the top of his head. He looked to be in his forties or fifties, depending on the area. Behind him was a large window which flooded the room with white light.

“H… hospital?” The croak in my throat was slowly abating, though it could use some help. I made a motion of drinking with my hand and the nurse beside me walked to a sink and began running the tap. I could hear water filling a glass and the sound of a knob being turned off, silencing the flow of liquid. A glass was shoved into my waiting hands and I drank quickly, downing the glass in five seconds. The groty mixture in my throat had been flushed by the fluid and I could feel my vocal chords being freed from their embrace.

“You’re right. You’re at the hospital,” the woman next to me said, offering me a warm smile. My right hand was greeted by the feel of another atop it, spreading warmth throughout my arm.

“So, you’ve got quite the story to tell, I presume,” the man spoke again, patting the bedding, “but first things first. What is your name? We’ve got no medical records on you.”

I racked my brain trying to think of the answer, however I came up with nothing. Tears came to my eyes and I felt my forehead, feeling stitches. Brain damage?

“I… I don’t remember.”

“How old are you?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Where are you from?”

“...”

“Do you have parents we can contact?”

“...”

“Siblings?”

“Y… yes…”

“Names?”

“... I don’t remember.”

“Alright, that’s enough of those questions for now,” the doctor said, scowling and looking at his assistant, who had a sad look on her face. She patted my hand twice and withdrew it, leaving my body feeling lonely. “How about an easier one, do you remember what happened?”

“I… fell…” I whispered.

“You hit your head on the curb pretty hard. Luckily we were able to get there before any severe damage happened. A good samaritan saved your life.”

“Good samaritan?”

“Yeah, someone who called it in for you. They left their name and number if you want to thank them.”

“... number?”

“Phone number.” My lips formed a small “o” as the information settled in my brain. I gazed over to the nurse and she patted my hand lightly.

“Alright. If you need anything, just remember that my name is Doctor Andrews, alright? I need to leave you with my assistant, Doctor Halgrimson, so you two can do some more tests.” Doctor Andrews stood and adjusted some of the machinery to my left before walking towards the door. He stopped and turned slightly to whisper a few words into the nurse’s ear before jerking the handle down and walking out, dropping the latex gloves in the biohazard bucket.

Doctor Halgrimson stepped forward and held out her hand. I reached up with mine and met her halfway. She shook it slightly and placed it gently back onto the bedding.

“My name is Doctor Halgrimson,” she reaffirmed, “but you can call me Katie. I need to do some tests real quick, is that okay?”

“Y-yeah.” Katie nodded and turned to the table behind her, picking up a small plastic clipboard. She removed a pen from the clamp on the board and scribbled a couple sentences on it before turning back to me.

“Okay, just sit back and relax. Please put your head all the way back into the pillow.” I did as I was told and she stepped around to my left side. “You need to read these sentences out loud, okay?” I nodded. She held the clipboard in front of me and I began to read.

“I am in the hospital, and I may have had a concussion. I will st… uh… I wi...shit…” The words became blurry and I reached up a hand to rub my eyes.

“That’s okay, let’s try one more time.” Again the board was held in front of me. I read the same sentence before the words became fuzzy, and I noticed Katie was slowly moving the board closer to me as I read. Her mouth frowned slightly and she turned the clipboard around, flicking the sheet she had written on over the top of the clipboard and scribbling some notes down.

“Okay, you’ve got a severe concussion. Now onto memory loss, which we’ve already partially covered. How old are you?”

“Twenty… twenty… twenty two.”

“Well, that’s a good sign. What’s a very prominent moment in your life?”

“Um… getting my… getting my… c-c… cu…”

“Getting your… what?”

“My… my… my… my… cut… c-cu… shit… I can’t remember what it’s called…”

“Describe it to me.”

“My… talent. What makes me s-special.”

“Your passion?”

“... sure.” Katie nodded and stood up, placing the clipboard back on the desk behind her. She stretched slightly and I placed a hand on my forehead, feeling the raised skin and foreign objects imbedded into my flesh. Ten stitches in a neat little line, holding together a raised, long bump that stung when I touched them. I quickly removed my hand and returned my attention to Katie.

“Well,” she started, turning back around with her brown hair flipping slightly, “no offense, but you smell pretty awful.” I raised my arm and took a sniff of the armpit, recoiling a little.

“Yeah, I guess,” I managed to say, my nose turning up. Katie laughed slightly and came to my side again.

“I’ll help you into the shower, alright? You can wash your hair and everything.” I silently thanked her as the bed covers were slowly pulled off my shivering body. She offered me her hand and I took it, moving my legs and feet until they were hanging over the edge of the bed. With one final surge of energy I pushed forward and was up on my feet. My victory was short-lived, however, as I lost my balance and fell forward slightly, Katie catching me on my way down. My hand instinctively shot out and grabbed the windowsill and I managed to stay standing.

“Woah, easy there,” she said, chuckling slightly. “A couple days of bedrest have probably not done your center of gravity many favors, huh?”

“Yeah, either that or I’ve forgotten how to move,” I mentioned, a small smile trickling towards my ears. Katie laughed and patted me on the back.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure we’ll get everything sorted out. Now, to the shower.” She helped me move my feet and legs until we were standing in front of the glass shower door imbedded into the wall. Katie let go of my hand and I grabbed the handle, pulling it down and open. “If you need anything or have trouble, please press the red button.” I nodded and stepped in, hearing the door click shut behind me.

The room was lit by a single yellow lamp in the middle, casting shadows in a circular formation from the source. The cream colored wallpaper gave the room an unappealing, greenish tint, which was very hard on my eyes. The shower/bathtub was nestled into the far corner of the room, directly across from a toilet. A tall vanity mirror stood on one side of the room, the wooden edges hanging over slightly into the doorway.

I tugged on the string holding the two halves of the emerald green hospital gown and pulled it off my back, letting it fall on the floor in an untidy heap. And then I stepped into the view of the vanity mirror.

The scar on my forehead shown a ghastly scarlet, the stitches surrounded by a band of red, directly contrasting to my pasty white skin color. My eyes were sunken and dark bags hung underneath, making them stand out. The nails on my right hand were chipped as if I had been biting them in my sleep.

But most shocking of all was my hair. My shoulder length purple hair was frazzled, the normal prominent fuchsia stripe running down left of center was shifted in all sorts of unnatural directions, throwing my appearance into one of disregard.

I reached up a hand and touched it, stepping closer to the mirror.

Purple.

Fuchsia.

Sunrise.

Twilight.

A sudden, unexpected voice in my head made me stumble backwards and drop to the ground, my right arm protecting my head from hitting the edge of the bathtub.

“Ten days.”