Should This Be Familiar?

Where am I? Who are all these people? Who am I? Why am I strapped to this table? Wait, bed? Table, bed, same thing. Okay, okay, just ask someone what's happening. Wait why can't I speak?

"He's awake," someone says. She's dressed in all white, medical tools all around her, one even around her neck. Doctor, I would hope.

"Alright Jamie, it's okay, calm down," she can see my fright. Wait a second is my name Jamie? "Jamie, you were in an accident. Do you know who any of these people are?" She gestures at the group of people standing beside her. They look like a family maybe, but why are they crying? I shake my head no.

"This is your family Jamie. You don't remember any one of them?" she asks again.

My family? But I don't recognize any of them. I don't even know who I am.

She takes the tubes out of my mouth, "Sorry about those. They were to help you breathe during the surgery." Only hearing that makes me realize how sore I am feeling.

"Surgery?" I'm able to ask, "What's happening, where am I?"

"You don't remember? He doesn't remember," she sighs to one of her nurses as she drops her head into her hands.

"Do you remember anything about yourself Jamie? Anything at all?" she asks, clearly worried. I try to think of something. I know my name is Jamie but only because she keeps telling me that. All I can remember is waking up on this bed. I shake my head, still trying to figure out anything.

"Alright,” she says, disappointed, “We'll leave you alone with your family for a minute while we try to figure some things out." She left with the other nurses and doctors. I'm left with, I guess, my family.

The biggest guy, who is probably my dad, comes up to me and sits on the end of the bed.

"Jamie," he's still sobbing, "James. You really don't remember me? It's just us now, we’re your family."

"I'm sorry," I tell him, though I'm not sure if I know enough to even qualify as sorry, "I don't remember anything, or anyone. Any of you."

I look to the daughter. She seems rather young, probably my little sister. 

"Please, tell me your names,” I ask of them. I want to know, “Help me remember." 

The man starts, "Well, I'm your dad," as I figured. He gestures for the woman and little girl to come over to us, "This is your mother. And your sister, Haven. Charlie, uh, your brother, is still on his way. He's your older brother and he’s already moved out, not too far thank god. He should be here soon." This is my family. I hate that they don't even look familiar. I should know them. I should know myself. 

The little girl, Haven, comes to my side. "Jamie, it's me. Can you please try to remember soon, please? For me? I want to go home so we can play. Please Jamie, we haven't finished our fort yet," she begged me. That made my mother cry harder. I feel so bad, if I could make myself remember I would. I want to remember.

"Can you tell me a bit about myself? Something to help jog my memory?"

"You're my big brother," Haven pleads, "You help me with my school work, and you play with me, and you watch my movies with me."

My mom continues, "Your name is James Harold Mallard, but most people call you Jamie. Um, you're 16 years old. You just got your driver's license. You're 5'10" with brown eyes and brown hair, beautiful smile. Your best friend Amanda drives to school with you everyday. You love to bake, and um," she's still sobbing. I don't think it's helping her talking about all this stuff that I should remember.

My dad chimes in so she doesn't have to continue, "You're favorite thing to bake is pumpkin bread. You eat it with your sister, and you let her take some to school for snack time. It’s one of both hers and your favorite things to do together."

"Okay, okay, wait," I stop them, "Do you all want some time to process? Maybe to pull yourselves together a bit. I'll stay here, obviously. Go get something to eat, or get some rest, you guys look exhausted. Don't let me worry you."

"Always thinking about others before yourself," my mom remarks, "That's my boy. Come on Haven, let's go get you some ice cream."

I'm left alone in here now. I wonder what the doctor meant when she said I was in an accident. I assume it was a car crash, but what actually happened? Was I driving? If not then who was? Were they hurt? Was anyone else hurt? Oh, here's the doctor just in time.

"Hey, doctor-"

She interrupts me, stern and cold, "Doctor Romave."

"Oh, alright. Doctor Romave. What happened in the accident? Who else was hurt?"

"Well you see Jamie," she takes off her glasses and I don't like the look in her eyes, it makes me shiver, "You weren't supposed to survive. We needed you dead to prevent the information from getting out, but hey at least we got you amnesia."

"What do you mean we? And what information could be worth dying over?" I ask. What is she talking about?

"We are none of your business. And we just made you forget that information, why would I remind you now? Don’t ask so many questions. Just be glad you got out of that one alive," she says, about to leave the room, "Oh and Jamie. Survive this." She winks and slams the door shut. I think I hear it lock, but it's hard to hear over the alarms that just sounded.

"SURVIVE WHAT?" I yell, but it's too late. She's already gone, and I'm locked in here, alone, still strapped to the bed, hoping to god that's not the fire alarm.