The long, narrow hallway is keeping us together. Martin offered his arm to me to help me to walk, since I was still very weak and my legs were aching. We took our steps slowly but steadily. The infusion stand rolled close to my left and I watched the pictures on the wall.

- These are really nice and calming, aren't they? – I ask quietly.

- Yes, they are... - he answers calmly, but he opens his mouth after a few seconds. – I'm not surprised, you always loved art, maybe that's why your first memory was the exhibition.

- Which painters I liked? – I ask with an innocent expression, looking up at him and his green eyes glance back at me. My grip is tight around his sweatshirt, the fabric is nice and soft. He shows a pleasant, kind smile.

- Oh, there are many... From Van Gogh to Dalí. Goya and Caravaggio too. You even were a big fan of the earlier works of some kind of unknown Vasarely guy – he lets out a soft chuckle, showing his wonky teeth again.

I smile back at him. There's a strange connection that I can feel between us, which makes me trust him and I'm not afraid or uncomfortable around Martin. Maybe he was right, we were something more and complicated in the past and even this accident couldn't break this link between him and me. It's so sad that I can only recall his name.

- Tell me more about you, please. I want to remember so bad – I plead.

- I really want to, Tea. But the doctor said no, he wants you to get your memories back by using your own power. Believe me, there's no one on this Earth who wants you to remember more than me – the kind glow in his eyes mix with some sorrow.

- Wait, what...? – I shake my head in confusion. How did he call me? Even Martin is confused for a moment, but soon he gets what is wrong.

- Your nickname, remember? – meanwhile, we arrive to the elevator and he pushes the button. – I've always called you Tea. From kindergarten to this very day.

- Really? We know each other for such a long time? – I say with a delighted surprise. Martin nods.

- We went to school together too... - he remembers back. – I can recall, that I was so shy to ask you to dance with me on prom, so my best friend, Andy asked you to be my date. You liked another guy back then, but you still decided to go with me... I still don't know why.

I listen to him in amusement, but sadly, there are no memories that can reappear. But I believe him nonetheless, I can see that he's honest, there's a pale blush on his cheeks.

- Maybe I had a good reason – I respond quietly. Martin's expression becomes delightful, his green eyes are glowing with joy and timid love. His hand travels near to mine and his soft fingers wrap around my pale fingers and squeeze them gently.

We exchange a gentle smile, but some moments later, my expression becomes sour and I lay my forehead to his shoulder. I let out a troubled, tired sigh.

- I want them back, Martin... - my voice is crackled and high, close to crying, even my eyes start to feel wet. Martin caresses my hair and pulls me into a hug.

- No, no, please, don't cry dear. We'll talk to Dr. Banks again in no minute and everything will be alright - he whispers.

The elevator door opens and that's the moment when I start to get myself together. Martin walks in and he places the infusion stand inside and then helps me in too. He pushes the button from the 4th floor to the ground floor. As we arrive in silence, the bustling ground floor unfolds before me, nurses, doctors, patients and their chatting fills up the building. Martin escorts me away to another, calmer corridor with dark windows and a poster with the radiation hazard symbol.

- There, I help you to sit down... - he says, but the door opens and the familiar doctor walks out.

- Ms. Kavanagh, Mr. Gore – he nods to greet us. – We prepared everything for you. Come in, please.

- Thank you, Dr. Banks – Martin answers then helps me to walk inside the examination room.

The room is dark with many different machines. It is separated with a brighter changing room with hangers and a chair and another room where they probably get the results out from the machines, decorated with a window with light blue lights. Dr. Banks escorts us to this room. There is a board with MRI results on them but with some blank place between them and a white bed in front of it. There's a nurse standing in the corner with a portable shelf with different tools.

- Sit down, Ms. Kavanagh. We get the infusion tube out and the one in your temple too, since they're no longer needed – he glances towards the nurse. – Ms. Pepper, this task is yours, I explain some vital information.

- Understand, Dr. Banks...

- So... Ms. Kavanagh, I want to explain everything about your operation yesterday. If Mr. Gore hadn't called the ambulance immediately, you would have lost your life, but luckily, the paramedics arrived in time therefore, your chance for survival was high, though you were in a very critical state. First, when you have arrived, we made this MRI to observe the brain trauma and the conclusion was, that your frontal lobe is damaged and from the impact, the brain's surface came in contact with the skull's small bone spikes and it can cause internal bleeding, which is very dangerous and could be fatal if it's not treated as soon as possible. We decided to penetrate your wound and drill your skull, that's were we put the tube in and get rid off the blood using vacuum. Fortunately, we could stop the bleeding and there was no severe blood lost, but we still kept the tube if any leakage would happen. Because the operation had to be done quickly, we didn't have time to examine further, so we will do a complex X-ray to see if there are any broken or bruised bones.

This sea of information is hard to process first. Oh my God... I'm still stuck at where he said that I would be dead if Martin is not there to call the ambulance. I can't believe I have gone through such monstrosity yesterday. Unimaginable, that's what shocks me the most.

The nurse already pulled out the tubes and took special plasters on them after she disinfected the wounds. I'm still looking at Dr. Banks with wide eyes.

- But... my memories... - I mumble.

- Let's hope this is only a short, temporary loss that will only affect you for 2-3 days. But we must take things slow, as I said, too much information can trigger flashbacks and seizures and these are not really comfortable. If anything goes well, the memory loss will "shrink". It means that your oldest, childhood memories will come back first, because they're coded in the subconscious. They're with you on a cellular, DNA kind of level. And it goes on in chronological order, so the last memory that will appear is the day of the accident, in fact, yesterday.

- That's why you forbade me to tell anything about it, right? – asks Martin.

- Of course, Mr. Gore. We shouldn't interrupt the chronological order, but every patient with any kind of memory loss or amnesia can't remember the day when they've lost their memory. So it's unnecessary to force her. Yes, there might be random memories and it's completely natural if they just pop up out of nowhere. I recommend to go and get the X-rays done – he says with a wide smile.

The complex X-ray can be equal with a nightmare. It made me more dizzy than I already was. There were 4 photos on the board, one for my legs, one for my abdomen, one for my chest and one for my head. There's no broken bone inside me, only some minor cracks on my ribs and my right shoulder, possibly when the truck hit me and fell on the road. The rest are just bruises, though they hurt like hell.

Martin and Dr. Banks escort me back to my room, which is on the traumatology, as the latter said. That's why the corridor and the whole floor is silent and calm, with almost no one around. The doctor said that he'll provide me with something to help my bruises heal faster and that I should alert him, when the wound between my forehead and temple starts bleeding again.

- ...That's all you two should know about. Sadly, we can't serve you dinner this evening, since we didn't know when you will wake up, Ms. Kavanagh.

- I'll be fine...

But then, the sounds of steps disturbed our conversation. A middle-aged man, with dark hair with some white strands is walking towards us. I don't know who he is.

- Martin Lee Gore? – he asks, his voice is echoing through the walls. Martin lets me go for a moment.

- Yes, I am – he says firmly. The mysterious man stops right in front of him. He's wearing an old black raincoat, jeans and shirt.

- Lieutenant Hank Anderson – he shows his badge. – Scotland Yard. You were the one who made a report about a first degree murder attempt yesterday. I came here to start the investigation.

Hearing his words, I experience shock again. I grab Martin at his shoulders from behind.

- Martin, what is he saying? Why is he here? Explain me!

- Is she the victim, Mr. Gore? – asks the detective, pointing at me.

- Excuse me, Mr. Anderson – Dr. Banks interrupts. - but the patient is still mentally unstable. Her frontal lobe is damaged and in the middle of a temporary memory loss. She needs a calm and stress-free environment.

- Martin, please, tell me what's going on. Answer me! – I plead to him.

- I'll be back in a minute, dear – he caresses my cheek. – And I'll tell you everything you need to know. Take me, lieutenant. I'm ready to answer your questions.