Game of Passion

Chapter 1: Consciousness

“No!”

“Run!”

“Save yourself! Please!”

“You have to run!”

I have to run.

But where? When all I see is darkness and nothing more, when I can feel the emptiness but do not remember what was there before.

Though I am certain there was something there and then there was none.

It was just void now.

A pit of void and loneliness, misery, and anger.

Until I was snapped out of it and I was falling.

And falling.

Falling.

~~~~~~~~~~

At first, there was a slice of light against the total pitch black. It just happened suddenly as if it was the beginning of something she cannot really decipher.

Then comes the awareness.

Like a swarm of bees moving around her ears—the buzzing noise was unbearable. She wanted it to go away, to leave her be. She preferred the silence better than this. Slowly, it lay low. And from then on, she finally recognized what the sounds actually were as it cleared.

Voices.

Screams of agony.

The clatter.

The busyness.

She could not open her eyes, too weak to do so. She tried to move but all she ever did was slightly close her hand, hoping that someone could see that she was awake. She tried to speak but her throat was too dry and a mere whimper is even a difficult task.

“Can you hear me, Miss?” someone asked and she was relieved but also afraid.

Where am I? What is happening?

She forced her eyes to open—willing herself to do it because she would never know if she remained in the dark and comforted by her unconsciousness. She did it eventually, only to close her eyes again when a blinding light welcomed her.

“Patient 37 has gained consciousness. Call for Doctor Harrington.”

The next events were a puzzle to her. She felt a hand touching her, a familiar voice calling but all of it only caused confusion and panic. Her heart started beating erratically, her whole body stiffening before she bolted on the bed and a shrill erupted from her mouth before she could even control it—her throat damaging from the sudden activity. She felt herself shaking violently while a hand continued to hold her.

A prickling pain registered in her arm and that was the reason why she slowly eased, why her breathing evened and her heart calming by the second.

She let out a low whimper when she felt something graze her cheek.

“When she wakes up again, you call for me immediately.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

She feels drowsy, feeling like slipping back to darkness.

It didn’t really take long.

~~~~~~~

“Her wounds have healed. We just need to wait for her to wake up and from there, we will know what to do next.”

Her eyelids fluttered before she was able to open them completely. This time, she put forth a determined effort against the light that greeted her, refusing to shut her eyes. She does not want to go back to unconsciousness again.

“Doctor,” the woman who she saw first called, surprised while looking at her.

She reached out a hand. “Wa-ter,” she managed.

Coming back to her senses, the woman hurriedly walked out to fetch her request.

Her eyes moved to the man standing beside her bed. He was looking down at her through his glasses—a look of disbelief and something akin to relief are on his face. She sees his white coat and immediately thinks that he is the doctor the woman was pertaining to a while ago.

“Are you alright, Miss? Do you feel any pain?” he asked, tearing his eyes away from her to look at the clipboard he was holding but he looked back at her again when she did not answer. “Blink if yes, Miss. Twice if not.”

She checked herself, feeling if there is any pain on her. Other than her torturous throat, there is none. Before she could answer, the woman, a nurse, came back with a glass of water and brought it close to her lips.

“Drink it slowly,” the doctor said.

She gulped the water down as slowly as she could even though she badly wanted to down it in one go. She looked back at the doctor and blinked once as an answer to his questions.

“That's good," he replied, understanding what she is trying to relay even if they were interrupted a while ago. "Though, we still have to run through tests to find out more about your condition. Questions will have to wait…until you can speak without feeling any pain from your throat.”

She blinked.

“If you would excuse me. I’ll be back later,” the doctor said then walked away from her cubicle.

She watched him leave and from that, a surge of pain attacked her head. She closed her eyes tight trying to make it go away. Breathing evenly, she wills herself to gather her wits together. She has to understand what is going on.

“That’s Doctor Flynn Harrington. He is the one handling you. This day has been quite busy that he has actually forgotten to introduce himself,” the woman said. “And I am Nancy. Nurse Nancy Beckett.”

She blinked.

“I’ll fetch you more water. I should have brought a pitcher. I will be back.” Nancy parted the curtain on the way out, forgetting to close it back and she could not believe what she was currently seeing.

It couldn’t be real because what an ugly, painful truth it would have been.

Across her cubicle are soldiers lying on makeshift beds. Their worn-out uniforms give away their status as if the hospital does not have enough gowns to give or that they are just newly admitted. Each was suffering wounds and some missing limbs. The scent of blood and medicine finally reached her, registering what she is in the middle of.

She looked away, feeling nauseated and ashamed. While they lie there without any compartment or privacy, she is staying in a cubicle where her condition might not even be as worse as theirs. Feeling herself, there was no problem with her or anything other than her head.

“I am so sorry. I forgot.” Nancy came back, putting down the pitcher before she closed the curtains. “You shouldn’t have seen it right when you just gained consciousness. How stupid of me.”

The woman poured the water into her glass and supported her as she drank it. She could not help but cough, wanting to clear her throat.

“Do not force yourself,” Nancy said, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It will ease out eventually.” The woman puts the pitcher and glass on the floor, just beside her bed, since there is no table or anything inside the cubicle other than the bed she is currently on. “I will leave you for a moment. I will see if Doctor Harrington is done with his other patients.” The woman smiled, patted her shoulder and then walked out.

Leaving her alone only made her more anxious. She only just woke up and immediately realizes that she is surrounded by fallen men. Everything had been ghastlyーthe smell, the view, the sounds, and the awareness that somewhere in this place are the dead. She shivered with the thought.

It’s a good thing the doctor and the nurse came back, the former looking as if he had gone off to fix himself rather than do his rounds. His glasses were askew, his sweat trailing down from his forehead while his hair was disheveled as if he had run his fingers on it through and through after their encounter.

"Are you comfortable with your position?" he asked.

She shifted. “Do you mind if I could have my upper body raised? My back is hurting.”

“Nurse Beckett,” the doctor called and the nurse immediately heeded without question.

The woman tried to fix her position but found it difficult since the nurse is a small woman and her limbs are stiff from being in the same position for so long. Doctor Harrington gave a helping hand, holding her without a word, therefore, Nurse Beckett took a step back. It was only when he was adjusting her pillow, his hands cornering her that he stiffened, realizing their proximity. His eyes darted at her and immediately bolted, catching her staring at him.

“I apologize.”

She just nodded then looked at the nurse who was merely on one corner, giving her an assuring smile. When her gaze went back to the doctor, she saw his hands shaking as he held a clipboard.

"I will ask a few questions and I hope you could answer them as clearly as your memory could recall."

She breathed deep. What he said just made her nervous.

As your memory could recall.

"What is your name, Miss?"

They just started and she's already lost. Her name. What is it? Then, it struck her, realization washed over her.

"My name?" she asked more to herself, her voice groggy and unrecognizable by her ears. "I-I'm sorry I don't remember."

She swallowed a lump in her throat as tears started to well up on her eyes.

What is this?

Her mind is a mess. She wants to believe it is only because she only woke up but there was just a blank on her head. There was no recognition or memory coming back to her.

The doctor, finally recovering from his uncomfortableness, sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed, looking at her intently. "We will have to do this slowly and carefully. You are in a very delicate situation, Miss."

A tear fell from her eye and Flynn watched it streak down her cheek.

"Let's start with what's happening in our country," he slowly said. "We are currently at war and it's been going on for the last three years. It has already been suspected that you will have memory loss when you first come here. You are very lucky to survive when the Patria's bombed the school you were in, only a few managed to."

She doesn't remember...anything. On what he said, there was no recognition on that event at all.

And it is agitating her.

She is scared of the unknown.

Who wouldn't be?

She shuts her eyes tight, searching for something, forcing herself. And though it sends shots and shots of pain on her head as a result, she does not stop until she has something to identify her, just a bit of information.

She sobbed, panicking.

Just one.

She has to remember even just one.

She breathed. "Freira." The name came out smooth and familiar from her lips.

Opening her lids, she met Flynn’s eyes and his expression was unreadable.

"It's Freira," she repeated. "My name is Freira.”