Broken Hearts and a Small Glass of Lemonade

3

2 Days Later:

A flashing red light.  The smell of food.  The same woman in the chair next to the bed.  Her head resting on the nightstand.  My right arm, throbbing.  An open window, letting the breeze come through.  Wind.  Clouds.  Sun.

Suddenly the memories come rushing back and I let a scream out. Terror and pain mixed in a high pitched whine.  My lip trembles and I try to move, but I can't.  The woman jumps up and pushes the flashing, red light.  She puts her hand to my face and tells me it's alright.  The doctor will be in soon.  And he is, just like she says.

He asks me to sit up.  To talk to him, to tell him everything.  I don't open my mouth.  I don't sit up.  I just stare out the window.  The breeze still caressing my cheek.  The smell of blossoms.  The touch of the woman's hand on mine.

"Do you remember anything?" the doctor asks.  I don't respond.  I am too worried about what will happen if I open my mouth and speak.  If... if I shared what I remember.

"Mandy, honey," the woman says, "please speak to us."

I regard the woman with shrewd eyes and turn away to look out the window again.  Who are these people?  What do they want with me?