“So you’re saying I’ll remember something soon?” I hold my breath, waiting for her to promise me that I’ll be fine again.
“Maybe.” She hesitates. “Unfortunately, this is not within my expertise. I’ve referred you to an excellent psychologist, though. Hopefully she can give us some answers.”
“What if she can’t? What if I never remember anything?” What if I simply . . . exist in the present?
“Let’s meet with Dr. Weimer before you worry too much,” she says, reaching forward to rest a hand on my leg cast. Given that her interaction with me up until now has always been friendly but on the extreme professional level, this feels both foreign and welcome. Dr. Alwood may be the only person in the world right now that I trust.
That’s probably why the question slips out in a whisper. “Did I do something to deserve this?” It’s a rhetorical question. She can’t answer that, any more than she can tell me who attacked me, who raped me, who left me for dead next to an abandoned building. But I ask it anyway.
She shakes her head. “I can’t believe that there is anything you could have done to deserve this, Jane.”
Jane. I don’t like the name. Not at all. That’s not Dr. Alwood’s fault, though. What else are they going to call me?
“Thank you.” I sound so small, so weak. So . . . insignificant. Am I? “Someone must be missing me. Even just one person, right?” I can’t be all alone in this world, can I?
Dr. Alwood’s face crumbles into a sad smile. “Yes, Jane. I’m quite certain that there is someone who misses you dearly.”