Alternative

| Chapter Nineteen

"You need to let me inside! You can't keep me out here!"

I push at Joe, tears on my face, but he doesn't let me rush into Emery's room. The doctors have already confirmed her amnesia. She took one look at the two of us and cried, confused. Seeing me, seeing Joe, terrified her. Without knowing who we are, she thinks she's in danger.

But she isn't. Joe is practically her brother-in-law. I'm her wife! I would never, ever, do anything to harm her. I just need the doctor to understand that. To listen to me.

Joe manages to pull me back a few feet, towards the opposite wall of the hospital hallway, and I lean against him, exhausted. How long had I been shouting? Screaming? Two security guards were called over because of me.

"Ms. Guzman." The doctor closes the door to Emery's home. I can still see her through the window. She's with a nurse, a blanket pulled up to her face. There are cables pressed against her head to monitor her brain activity. While she remembers her name, most of her childhood, it's the memories containing me that are gone. Five years of her life flying in the wind with the Alt-Life data I uploaded into her.

Clearing his throat, the doctor motions for Joe to have me sit on the waiting bench beside us. I don't struggle as I follow my friend. I sit beside him, my leg bouncing.

Joe rubs my back. "It's okay, Ray," he says.

"Is it?" I glance at Joe before looking at the doctor. "Is it really okay?"

"Ms. Guzman, I just need you to understand the situation we have here." The doctor, with his dark eyes and curly blonde hair, doesn't give me any type of peace of mind. With his clipboard in his hands, turned away so I can't read the information, he looks more like a warning; the same warning I should've reacted faster to the moment it sounded back at Alt-Life.

If I had, would Emery be okay?

"The good news is, Emery doesn't have any physical injuries," the doctor says. He gives his clipboard a quick glance. "And she can leave by the end of the week, after extra tests and monitoring, of course."

"'Okay?" I slide both of my hands over my face as I take a deep breath. "What will the new tests show?" I glance up at the doctor. "Are you looking for something?"

His brows lift as he glances back into the room. Emery is watching us, but she's quiet. Earlier, she had been crying so loud people rushed over. It broke me.

"Doc?" I bite my lip. "What is it you're looking for? Is there a way to reverse it?"

The doctor frowns as he looks back at me.

"There's got to be something, right? People get amnesia all the time."

"I know," he says. He lowers his head, taking his eyes off of me.

"Then?" I try to stand, but Joe holds me. He slowly shakes his head as he silently reminds me I should shit. I do, but I'm anxious as I look back at the doctor. "Then, if you know, you can help her, right? You can bring back my wife."

The intercom overhead calls for another doctor needed in the emergency room. A guard from a neighboring room rushes over in that direction, too. He passes me, hands on his sides, but that's the only second I'm not looking at the doctor. I'm focused on him, on his face; I'm waiting what feels like forever for what he needs to say.

He lifts his gaze as he sighs. "Rayna Guzman, right?" he asks.

I nod. "I've told you my name."

"Right." He glances at his clipboard once again. "I think you would know how this works, wouldn't you?"

Confusion isn't a stranger to me, but I hate it. And I hate that this doctor won't answer my question directly. It's a simple 'yes,' or 'no.' Not a 'you know how this goes,' because I don't. If I did, I would've fixed Emery myself.