BEAST.

Nothing. Definition: Not anything, not a single thing. That’s how I like to describe myself because it’s exactly how I feel. It’s all I know.

Now, I’m not trying to be purposefully “edgy” or “unstable”. I’m not trying to pretend to be “heartless” or “soulless”, to invent to others I’m some trendy emotionless individual that acts like crippling anxiety is a personality trait. I suppose the right way to say this is that nothing… is what I’ve become.

Ever since I lost my memories.

Amnesia, post-traumatic memory loss. Long term or short term, no one at this damned hospital is sure. I would tell you how this happened, if I actually knew myself. I only have a small recollection, bits and pieces from what nurses and doctors alike told me with one fact being that I should have died in that car crash.

I, Atlas (or so I’ve been apprised), was in a Ford white pickup truck speeding down some dark windy road before being stopped abruptly by the impact of me colliding into a small yellow buggy three months ago. I was ejected from the car from the cause of not wearing my seat belt onto the pavement where I cracked my skull. Dr. Sinjoin, my primary doctor, showed me the scan and I won’t lie, that huge crack looked pretty cool.

Although, it did almost end my life seeing as I did die for one full minute in the Or before they were able to revive me. Such a daredevil, I know. Let’s not celebrate just yet as there is a dark side to everything, my miraculous recovery had a pretty heavy one. You see, the owner of that quaint bug themed car wasn’t as lucky as I.

She died.

Or well, I murdered her.

I’m not allowed to say that in my weekly therapy sessions with Dr. Simaya, she’s a close colleague and cousin of Dr. Sinjoins. Both Indian, good looking - smart. She’s a psychologist though. The first time I brought it up, over and over I was told that it wasn’t my fault because it truly wasn’t. My brakes were cut.

By who? Unbeknownst to me and the NYPD. She says I’m suffering from survivors guilt but I didn’t pay much attention because it’s just something to add to my list of the many things wrong with me. So maybe I’m not just nothing. Maybe I’m a murderer, yet the attempt on my life is the one being investigated. I was no help in my own case, since I have no remembrance of the events that took place that night so trying to question me was a waste of their time.

The nurses had taken note though during my recovery being unconscious, I muttered the words “I can’t stop! I can’t stop!”.

Spooky, right?

I did have some visitors, or well visiting attempts. They wouldn’t allow a man they called my brother and some girl he kept trying to bring along to see me for the past few months. Dr. Sinjoin told me the girl claimed to be my best friend. I don’t understand the meaning.

Definition: a person’s closest friend.

Nurse Quinn probably shouldn’t have lent me her laptop and gain access to the internet but what’s done is done. I’ve read people have multiple best friends, but this title is supposed to be special and for one person only. Incredibly contradictory but I’ll look past it.

The door creaked open a crack and I turned my head to look over my shoulder at the familiar spectacled brown eyes.

“I’m decent.” I turned forward as Dr. Sinjon pushed his glasses forward and cleared his throat, entering the room. I caught a glimpse of myself in the small circular mirror that hung by the door, blue eyes staring back at me. My hair was so blonde it looked almost white, whiter than my fair skin at least.

“Atlas.”

“Dr. Sinjoin.”

“How are you feeling this morning?” He walked around the comfy chair I was seated in, looking out of the window. I merely scoffed at his question. “Same as I have been for the past three months,” I refused to look at him, “Empty.”

Definition: lacking meaning, or sincerity.

I used to say I felt sad, sad because I lost who I was but it soon shifted into numbness. I think that’s worse, to feel nothing instead of something even if it’s something along the lines of despair because at least you’re in tune with your emotions. I lost that.

Nothing haunts us like the things we don’t say.

He sighed. “We’re going to work on that. I promise I’d help you restore your memory, and I meant that.” I decided I was feeling rather snarky this morning so my reply wasn’t all that pleasant, I tried to be polite at least. “No offense, Doctor, but if you couldn’t make any progress with me since I got admitted, then I highly doubt you can now.”

He didn’t seem phased by my tone. He never was, he was more than used to my mood swings. He raised a hand, “None taken, I understand your fustratio-”

I almost snarled at him, “No, you don’t.”

“You’re quite… difficult this morning.” He looked down at his clipboard with a shake of his head. “I really do believe in you, you know. When they first brought you in three months ago after the crash I was sure you weren’t going to survive but you did, then I was positive you weren’t going to wake up after surgery but what did you do?”

“I did.” I finally turned to look over at him, to catch him smiling warmly at me. Almost like how a father would gleam at his child after making him proud. It was rather contagious, causing me to lift the side of my mouth up partially.

“You did it.” He let out a deep breath, “Now that you’re in better spirits, I have some good news.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What is this… news?”

Dr. Sinjon walked over to my hospital bed, reaching under it and lifting out the bag the nurses had given me filled with clothes that their children or relatives donated. Unlike some of the other patients, at times, I was allowed to wear normal clothing instead of the hospital gown we all usually adorned which was mostly only required if I had to get testing done. “You’re being released.”

My eyes widened, and then narrowed. “April fools was a month ago.”

“Now, Atlas, I’m not playing a trick on you. We’ve contacted Vincent to come retrieve you.” He chuckled at me. I stood up from the bed and grabbed the bag from him with a huff, “My brother?” I was merely guessing. Aforementioned, I didn’t even know his name. He playfully rolled his eyes as he turned to walk out of the room, “Is there another we aren’t aware of?”

I grumbled, “As if I’d remember, seems like I’m not the only one being difficult this morning.”

He looked over his shoulder at me, “It’s all in good fun, I’ll meet you at the nurses station when you’re ready to sign the release forms.” With that, he walked out finally leaving me to my lonesome. I let out a nervous, heavy sigh as I plopped back down on the bed.

I closed my eyes for a brief second, and only a second, a migraine coming on as a flash of a yellow smashed in buggy erupted from my memories. I held the side of my head in pain while heaving out deep, staggered breaths.

Not now. Not here, not before they’re about to let you go.

It wasn’t long before the pain subsided and I was able to open my eyes. The flashbacks from that night came at random and when they did, sometimes it could be a mild headache or agonizing pain. It was as if my own subconscious was terrorizing me.

I stood up once more. There wasn’t a chance I was going to talk about these occurrences with Dr. Samiya, especially not after I was finally being released. I bent down, grabbing the duffel bag before turning on the heel of my sneakers, or really Nurse Catalin’s daughters old worn out sneaker, before making my way out of the room. It was rather unsettling walking down the halls of the hospital towards the nurses station away from my room knowing I wouldn’t be going back a few minutes later. The thought made me stop, clenching the straps of the bag.

This was a step towards a new life.

Another chance.

I kept going and when I came upon the nurses station, I spotted Dr. Sinjon talking to a tall young man. His eyes were blue just like mine from what I could see from the side but his hair was a chestnut brown. I saw a lot of my own features in his face though, which convinced me that the stranger had to be the brother. Well, my brother.

Dr. Sinjon noticed me walk up, and gestured for the man to turn around. When he did his eyes sort of widened at me before softening. He took a step forward, but then held himself back which I tilted my head at. Was he going to hug me?

“Atlas.” Vincent finally spoke up after a couple of moments. “I-I’m so happy to see you again.” His voice cracked and I bit my lip. I was unsure of how to comfort him, I barely knew him but he knew all about me. It was a weird situation to be in so I did what he wanted to do when he first saw me. I took a step forward and wrapped my arms around him in a hug. “Me too.”

It was a lie.

I didn’t feel much of anything except for discomfort, but when he returned my affections I couldn’t let him know that. His face had become buried in my shoulder with his neck craning down. I was significantly shorter than him. When it became too much, I pulled away to give the two of them a cheeky grin. “I didn’t know how much longer I could stand Dr. Sinjon’s face being the first I see every morning.”

The doctor feigned a betrayed expression, a hand to his chest. “That hurts, Atlas. Truly.”

“It’s all in good fun.” I mocked his words from earlier. He snickered at me before placing his hands behind his back, “Well you won’t be getting rid of me that easily. I’ve scheduled you for weekly therapy sessions with Dr. Samiya. Attendance is mandatory.”

“Am I back in high school?” I pouted, almost.

“Do you want your memory back?”

“More than anything.”

“Then I’ll see you next week.”