You surface, disorientated. Your eyelids feel heavy. It is as if you just woke up from a long, empty dream. As you look around, your vision is so blurred that you cannot make out where you are. Your thoughts are too sluggish to panic. Your mind feels... scattered. If your brain was a puzzle, none of its pieces would be fitting together right now.

Your attention is suddenly drawn to a high-pitched beeping. You're not sure what it is until you catch a strong whiff of disinfectant. You hear a door open, followed by hurried footsteps. Then, an annoyed sigh.

"Just my luck. There HAD to be an emergency five minutes before the end of MY break. It. Always. Falls. On. Me. So let's see... what is it this time? Better be worth me missing lunch."

You want to answer, but your voice seems stuck in your throat. Your body feels so weak... and so heavy at the same time. You try to lift your hand, to reach the blurry silhouette in front of you. But you barely lift a finger.

You hear the flutter of fabric being shuffled around, a mumble, a grumble... and then a shriek,..

"Wait... Did she just... move?"

She takes something by the night stand and pokes at you harshly, like one would poke a dead animal with a stick. She lets out a sigh of relief.

"No, it must be a spasm. Yeah… Just a spasm… Just. A. Spasm. God, I should never have taken that job. ‘Intensive Care Unit’, they said. I should have known it was going to be intensive, it’s in the bloody name! No wonder no one wanted the job in the first place… it’s creepy and every alert is treated like an emergency."

She laughs nervously.

"At least, at this job, no one complains about me."

You slowly turn your head towards the voice.

She shrieks again. Something drops on the floor with a loud bang. The footsteps pound away. You hear her screech.

"DOCTORRRRRRRRR!"

You swallow. Your tongue feels clumsy. It hurts, but it works.

Shortly after, the room fills with voices.

"I swear she moved! Then she looked at me! SHE LOOKED AT ME."

The doctor steps to your bedside. His voice is calm and empathetic. A welcome contrast with the screeching nurse.

"Good. You’re waking up. Stay with me."

His voice steadies the room. He shines a small light into your eyes and performs several exams.

The doctor explains that you had an accident, that you hit your head and fell unconscious. Your husband found you on the floor and called the ambulance. He says that everything is going to be alright. The hardest part is behind you. All you need to focus on now is your recovery.

Slowly, the frantic beeping settles into a steady rhythm. Shapes begin to sharpen. The ceiling lights stop smearing into white streaks. The blur around the doctor’s silhouette tightens. The world finally starts behaving like a world again.

From that moment on, the medical tests follow in quick succession. As the hours pass, you regain your voice and spirits. But one thing remains: your mind is still shattered into pieces.

When asked if you know who you are, you search desperately for an answer. A name. A face. A birthday. Anything. But nothing comes.

You realize you do not know where you live or what year it is. If you have family or loved ones, you have forgotten all about them.

All you know is that you are here, in that hospital bed, and that your memories are gone.

The doctor frowns. His assistant pales. The diagnosis comes in.

"It appears the accident has left you with profound retrograde amnesia. Don't force it. Memory sometimes returns gradually. Right now, the important thing is that you're awake."

He smiles at you sympathetically, trying to sound reassuring... But it's not really working.

"At least, you are not alone. Your husband has been watching over you. For seven months. Every single day. We had to ban him from the waiting room at the beginning. He would eat, work and sleep there."

He turns to his assistant.

"Could you ask Mr. Laurent to come in?"

"THE husband?"

"The very one."

"Poor man..."

She slips out of the room.