The Forgotten Memories of Alexis (COMPLETED)

Chapter 8

Next morning my mind was left blank like an empty cup. When I opened my eyes, I was clueless where I was again. The room was filled with whites and the large glass wall was like a panorama of perfectly manmade art— the overseeing skyscrapers of the City was a totally dazzling. My eyes flitted to the digital clock drooped on the wall. It was seven in the morning and I was still here, lying, feeling the void part of my brain. All was missing. There were no memories left. I clutched on the quilt covered on my lower body. The orange light of the sun wore on as the darkness started to diminish on my room.

What’s my name? I asked mentally as I tried to recall the name they used to call me. Why am I here? I didn’t know where I was— but how the stale design and familiar style, I could say I was on a hospital room. I heaved a sigh as I took a glance on my side table. I didn’t know why I did that but something had drawn my head to that direction. There was a notebook placed on the bedside table nestled on the basket of fruits. As the time passed by, the looming anxiety on my chest resurfaced. My hand were a bit jittery when I tried to reach the notebook. Maybe… just maybe, this will help me to fill the blank space on my brain.

After I had grabbed the notebook, I scanned the content of it. There was dates placed on the top of every page. I turned to the page where there was a name of the owner of the notebook. There was a name that was scratched out and it said: Ariellè, and next to that mistaken name, a name of a boy had been scrawled. It was Alexis. Something pulled the trigger of curiosity in me as I stared on the two names scrawled on the notebook. I opened the first page and the immense number of anticipation started to weigh in my head.

When I finally read all the content of the notebook, I realized it was a journal and I figured out that the Alexis in this notebook was me. But all of it did not make me remember my forgotten memories. There were names on the notebook as a beautiful penmanship scrawled on every page. I was certain it wasn’t mine. When the door squealed to open, I frantically closed the notebook and  waited for the door to open. Once the door was opened, a woman of my age walked in. I couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by her. She was so beautiful, with her jet black hair and almost paper white complexion.

She was smiling while she was lunging to my part. Who was she?

“Good morning,” she greeted.

Her eyes drifted to the book I was holding. Because of her enticing beauty, I forgot to put this back on its previews place. I subtly pushed it on my side, blocking her sight. I wasn’t sure if that notebook was mine. The woman in my side just creased her forehead and tiptoed to take peek on the notebook. I buried the notebook using the white quilt on my bed and she just scrunched up her nose. I suddenly realized that maybe I knew her that’s why she was acting that way.

“Who are you?” to fill the void on my head, I asked the question that kept on poking on my head.

“Oh, I see,” she nodded as though it was normal for me to forgot things, “You forgot all your memories again,”

Again.

“Obviously,”

She looked at me. The way she looked at me, I felt the sprouting anxiousness within me. Her eyes were a door to the mystical garden of hope, miracle, and dreams. I clutched on my quilt as I felt the ease in wandering in my chasm of thoughts about the emotions of her eyes. She was wearing a hospital  gown and she let her hair cascade perfectly. I watched her there as she stoop up in front of me. She wasn’t moving though, she just stayed there, idle.

“Have you read the journal?” she asked again.

“What journal?”

She rolled her eyes, “The one that you tried to hide from me.”