24. A LIFE YOU NEVER LIVED #2
“Hello, Mr. Moore.” The man says softly, clearly keeping his voice down on purpose. I appreciate it more than he knows, as my head is still pounding to the beat of my heart. “I’m Dr. Khan. I wanted to take a moment to talk to you about your injuries.”
I nod slowly, “Okay.”
Dr. Khan goes over my injuries one by one, talking about all the cuts and bruises on my hands, the broken ribs on the left side of my body caused by the impact of the crash, the head injury, and how I actually have a brain bleed, and the importance of keeping my blood pressure stable.
He emphasizes this by telling me I need to stay as calm and stress-free as possible, then grabs the stool underneath the computer in the corner of the room and comes to my bedside.
He shines a penlight in my eyes and directs me to look to the right, left, up, down, and before long, I feel dizzier than I did moments ago.
He seems to notice because he pockets the penlight and looks at me with concern.
“Your pupils are a little sluggish, but equal in size, so that’s reassuring.” Dr. Khan says. “I do want to ask you some questions, though. Well, one in particular.”
“Okay?”
“What’s today’s date?” he asks, watching me intently.
I frown, about to tell him I already answered that question earlier, but instead I sigh and answer, “December fifth, two thousand twenty-five.”
He nods slowly, then looks straight into my eyes and says, “I’m sorry, Mr. Moore, but it’s actually May twenty-fourth, two thousand twenty-five.”
I frown, shaking my head. “T-that’s not possible.” My brain spins as I try to understand what’s going on, but I can’t get any of it straight. “I don’t understand. I—”
“You have suffered a brain injury,” he says gently. “Memory confusion is not unusual.”
“Memory confusion?” My frown deepens. “I’m not fucking confused! It was December fifth, and then suddenly it’s not? I wake up, and I’m living more than six months in the past?”
“Sir—”
“Don’t sir me,” I snap. “Tell me how that’s possible.”
“It’s possible you thought you lived something, and it wasn’t real at all. It’s not unheard of with brain injuries. I’m sorry—”
“No.” I shake my head. “I know what’s real, and I’m engaged—I got engaged on December fucking fifth! You think I wouldn’t remember that? Where the fuck is my ring? I want it back! Tell me—”
“Conrad,” Dr. Khan says softly. “You need to calm down, or we’ll have to sedate you. The pressure in your brain increasing will put you at risk for herniation—and that could kill you.”
“I’m not going to fucking calm down! Tell me where my ring is and then I’ll fucking calm down—”
Dr. Khan nods once at Agnes, and she looks apologetic as she comes to my bedside. Her eyes are kind as she looks at me, but I can’t relax. I’m wound tight. Maybe I do need a sedative. I need sleep. My head is fucking killing me, and I can’t think straight anymore.
“Sedate me then,” I whisper, raising my chin. “Because I’m not going to calm down until I get some answers.”
Agnes nods, pulling a vial out of her pocket.
I extend my arm for her as she draws the medication into a syringe, then turns back to me.
I watch as Dr. Khan gets up from the stool and exits quietly, and right before she reaches for my IV, I move my arm away from her.
She frowns, but I’m narrowing my eyes at her.
“If you want to medicate me, you’ll have to do me a favor first.”
“Sir—” Agnes starts, but then sighs. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need to borrow your phone,” I tell her in a pleading tone. “I need to send my fiancé a message on Instagram. Then I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I’ll be the best patient you’ve ever had.”
Agnes nods slowly, capping the syringe and then setting it down on the bedside table.
She pulls out her phone and unlocks it, then taps a few times and holds it out for me.
Her Instagram is pulled up when I grab it, and then I immediately type Kenneth Dunn into the search bar, not wasting any time.
What I find sends a chill down my spine.
My body quakes with fear and uncertainty as I look at his pictures.
There, right on the screen, I see no sign of us anywhere.
It’s as if I don’t exist in his life at all.
Our pictures together are all gone. The portraits he took of me—poof.
Instead, when I look at the date on his last picture, I see it’s from today.
May fucking twenty-fourth. How the hell is this even possible?
Is Dr. Khan right, and I imagined the whole thing?
An alternate reality? A spare life that never happened?
But then, if that’s true and none of it was real, how do I have the keychain with Kenneth’s key—my key to our place?
Tears prick my eyes, and a knot forms in my throat, and before I can brace myself for impact, my body betrays me, and I choke on a sob that leaves me feeling embarrassed.
But Agnes moves in to comfort me immediately, taking her phone back and giving me a hug.
My ribs scream in agony, but I hold her back tightly, feeling like she’s the only thing tethering me to this earth.
When she lets me go, she looks apologetic all over again, but this time there’s sympathy in her eyes as well.
I’m sure it’s obvious that I was looking for my fiancé and I found something else instead.
“Thank you,” I whisper, then offer my arm once more. “I need to rest.”
“Of course,” Agnes replies, grabbing the IV tubing gently and giving me the medication. “You press the call light button if you need anything at all, okay, honey?”
I smile, but it’s fake. “I will.”
It doesn’t take very long before there is a warm, tingly feeling spreading over my body.
My eyes droop seconds later, and then, before I know it, I’m not even existing in this dimension anymore.
I’m floating somewhere in between reality and dreams. Somewhere, I see golden curls and bright blue eyes, and they still belong to me.
It’s that thought, and that thought only, that helps me relax.
Because somewhere, sometime, we existed in the same timeline.
In the same universe. We shared breaths and secrets and kisses.
And nothing—not even a car accident or being banished to the past—can take him away from me.
He’ll still love me.
I’m sure of it.