Silent Fall

was the white light people talked about, the one to follow when you were dead. But she wasn’t dead, was she?
    It was just a nightmare, she told herself. She was dreaming; she’d wake up in a minute. But something was wrong. Her bed didn’t feel right. The mattress was hard beneath her back. There were odd bells going off in her head. She smelled antiseptic and chlorine bleach. A siren wailed in the distance. Someone was talking to her, a man.
    Her stomach clenched with inexplicable fear as she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. Her eyes flew open, and she blinked rapidly, the scene before her confusing.
    She wasn’t home in her bedroom, as she’d expected. A man in a long white coat stood next to the bed. He appeared to be in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, dark eyes, and a serious expression. He held a clipboard in one hand. A stethoscope hung around his neck, and a pair of glasses rested on his long, narrow nose. Next to him stood a short, plump brunette dressed in blue scrubs, offering a compassionate, encouraging smile that seemed to match the name on her name tag, Rosie.
    What was going on? Where was she?
    â€œYou’re awake,” the doctor said, a brisk note in his voice, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “That’s good. We were getting concerned about you. You’ve been unconscious for hours."
    Unconscious ? She gazed down the length of her body, suddenly aware of the thin blue gown, the hospital identification band on her wrist, the IV strapped to her left arm. And pain -- there was pain... in her head, her right wrist, and her knees. Her right cheek throbbed. She raised a hand to her temple and was surprised to encounter a bandage. What on earth had happened to her?
    â€œYou were in an automobile accident last night,” the doctor told her. “You have some injuries, but you’re going to be all right. You’re at St. Mary’s Hospital just outside of Los Olivos in Santa Barbara County. I’m Dr. Carmichael. Do you understand what I’m saying?"
    She shook her head, his brisk words jumbling up in her brain, making little to no sense. “Am I dreaming?” she whispered.
    â€œYou’re not dreaming, but you do have a head injury. It’s not unusual to be confused,” the doctor replied. He offered her a small, practiced smile that was edged with impatience. “Now, do you feel up to a few questions? Why don’t we start with your name?"
    She opened her mouth to reply, thinking that was an easy question, until nothing came to mind. Her brain was blank. What was her name? She had to have one. Everyone did. What on earth was wrong with her? She gave a helpless shake of her head. “I’m... I’m not sure,” she murmured, shocked by the realization.
    The doctor frowned, his gaze narrowing on her face. “You don’t remember your name? What about your address, or where you’re from?"
    She bit down on her bottom lip, straining to think of the right answers. Numbers danced in her head, but no streets, no cities, no states. A wave of terror rushed through her. She had to be dreaming -- lost in a nightmare. She wanted to run, to scream, to wake herself up, but she couldn’t do any of those things.
    â€œYou don’t know, do you?” the nurse interjected.
    â€œI... I should know. Why don’t I know? What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I remember my name, where I’m from? What’s going on?” Her voice rose with each desperate question.
    â€œYour brain suffered a traumatic injury,” Dr. Carmichael explained. “It may take some time for you to feel completely back to normal. It’s probably nothing to worry about. You just need to rest, let the swelling go down."
    His words were meant to be reassuring, but anxiety ran like fire through her veins. She struggled to remember something about herself. Glancing down at her hands, she saw the light pink, somewhat chipped polish on her fingernails and wondered how it could be that her own fingers didn’t look familiar to her. She wore no rings, no jewelry, not even a watch. Her skin was pale, her arms thin. But she had no idea what her face looked like.
    â€œA mirror,” she said abruptly. “Could someone get me a mirror?"
    Dr. Carmichael and Rosie exchanged a brief glance, and then he nodded to the nurse, who quickly left the room. “You need to try to stay calm,” he said as he jotted