I rushed down the hall beside the gurney.

"She came in yesterday. Crash victim. The car overturned completely after being hit by a guy running a red. She was stable up until this morning when one of her kidneys began bleeding," one of the nurses explained.

"We need to get her into surgery right away," I insisted. "Get Dr. Putana down here."

"Dr. Thomas, paging Dr. Thomas," a voice rang out over the P.A.

I sighed. It was going to be a long day.

*-*-*

"So, he brought a hot girl who's around our age to your house so she could spend the night. . . and you got mad at him? Sorry, but are you stupid?"

I turned to glare at my friend and leaned back in my chair in the mall's food court. "No, but you're an idiot. Look, I wasn't mad about her specifically, I'm just pissed at my dad."

Jose shrugged. "Sure, he works a lot, but because of him, you guys do have it pretty good. I mean, just look at your house! Plus, you already have your own car and she's a beaut."

I sighed and shook my head.

"I'd trade it all if it meant I actually got to see him," I muttered.

Jose didn't hear, though. He was way too busy staring at some girl in a tube-top.

"She's hot," Jose grinned, giving her a little wave.

I rolled my eyes at him. "She's also married, Josey. She's got a wedding ring on. I'd say her husband is someone you wouldn't want to mess with either, seeing as the guy she's with is being careful not to look at her the wrong way much less walk too close to her."

"He could just have an erectile dysfunction. Maybe it pains him to look at beautiful women," Jose suggested.

I slowly raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't reply. Not even three seconds later, a large guy with gray hair and a leather jacket walked up to the woman and wrapped his hand around hers. She smiled up at him and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.

"Or, I'm right, you're wrong, he's a biker, and you're lucky you aren't dead. What would you do without me?" I smirked.

"Sure, I would have been killed, but at least I would have gotten some action first. You suck," Jose complained.

"She never would have gone for you anyways. All I did was save you from embarrassment and disappointment," I replied dryly.

Jose let out an annoyed breath. "You're annoying when you're moody, you know that? I'm sorry that your dad seems to care more about her than you right now, but think about it this way, you will never have to see her again. Your dad took her to the police station this morning, right?"

I nodded reluctantly. "Right."

*-*-*

"There's no way that you just won again. I think I figured out who you are: you're the world's leading Go Fish champion," Braum exclaimed.

I shook my head at him, smiling. "You're right, that must be it. I must have been heading to the championship game when the pressure of winning became too much and I spontaneously lost my memory."

"Go Fish can be a very competitive and stressful game," Braum added thoughtfully.

I let out a small laugh, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear. Braum began methodically gathering up the cards off of the table, putting them back into a stack. Then, he started shuffling the deck once again.

"So, do you want to play again, or should I teach you how to play a-"

"Do you think that anyone will call?" I cut him off, still staring at the table.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"Do you think. . . do you think there is actually someone out there looking for me? Do you think anyone will call?" I questioned.

I looked up at him to see that there was now a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, a small frown on his lips. "Of course there is. Don't you believe that your family misses you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, really. I feel like I should, like there should be some sort of intuitive feeling in my stomach that tells me, like in movies when people just know that although the person they love is missing, they aren't dead, but I don't feel anything. I can't remember what my family is like, or if they might be missing me, and so I just don't know."

Braum gave me a sad look, and took my hands within his own. "Hey, I know it's hard to imagine right now, because you can't remember what they're like, but I promise you that your family out there looking for you who loves you very much. Look, in the movies, everything is sped up and the missing person find their family and gets to go home right away, but this is real life. It may take a couple of days, for any number of reasons, but they will come and you will get to go home. I barely even know you yet and I can't imagine not spending every waking minute trying to find you if you went missing."

I took a deep breath in and then slowly let it out.

"So, I'm probably going to be going back to Jarod's house. Ket won't be happy," I observed.

"Ket?" Braum raised an eyebrow.

"Jarod's son," I explained. "He doesn't like me very much."

"Oh," Braum nodded. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that. I could always come with you and have a little talking to with Ket about being nicer to you; man to man, cop to Ket."

I let out a small laugh. "As promising as that sounds, maybe not. Besides, I'm sure I can handle a teenage boy."

Braum let out a chuckle. "One, that sounded kind of dirty, and two, you're so naive. No one can handle a teenage boy."

I narrowed my eyes at him and smacked him on the shoulder. "Seriously, how are you a cop?"

He gave me a mock look of offense. "I happen to think that I am perfect cop material. I'm ruggedly handsome, funny and look good in uniform. Besides, gun belts are slimming."

Just then, Bellmont came in. "Braum, we need you at the front for a second."

Braum looked at me and gave me a smile. "I'll be back in a minute."

Then, he stood up and followed Bellmont out of the break room. Once the door was firmly closed, I stood up and walked over to it, pressing my ear up against it. I could hear the hustle and bustle of the office, but I tried to listen beyond that, hoping I'd be able to hear what was going on at the front. I couldn't. I rolled my lip into my mouth and began chewing on it.

". . .back here," Braum's voice suddenly pierced through the crowd. "Now, please take a seat at the desk. You are Mr. and Mrs. Denmouth, correct?"

"Yes, that's us," a male voice replied.

"You're here because you believe that the girl in question may be your missing daughter. What makes you believe that?" Braum questioned.

I felt my heart skip a beat in my chest and I leaned further into the door.

"Our daughter would now be seventeen and she has always had her father's dark hair," a woman's voice replied. "Plus, the name is so similar. Po, for Ponellipi."

Ponellipi?, I thought with a cringe.

"I see. So, did you bring all of the required documentation? Health card, birth certificate, photographs and the like?"

There was a moment where all that could be heard was the shuffling of paper.

"Good, thank you," Braum said.

I could picture him sorting through the papers, reading what each of them had to say and wondering if they held the secrets to who I was.

"It says here," Braum began. "That your daughter had her appendix removed when she was ten."

My hand went to my stomach and my fingers brushed across the skin that stretched over the spot where my appendix would sit. It was smooth.

"I'm so sorry Mr. and Mrs. Denmouth, but the girl we have in our custody never had her appendix removed. She's not your daughter," Braum explained in a grave voice.

Mrs. Denmouth let out a small sob, and I felt as if I wanted to join her. I turned away, not able to handle the sound any longer. I felt my heart sink into my stomach and I couldn't help but wish that I had been there daughter, even if meant my name was Ponellipi. Not just for my sake either, but for Mrs. and Mr. Denmouth. Sure, I wanted to find my family, and it hurt that I couldn't remember them, to know that they could be anywhere, doing anything, but Mrs. and Mr. Denmouth had it so much worse. They could remember everything about their daughter. They knew exactly what they were missing.

I jumped as the door opened and Braum stepped through, looking grim. The moment he saw me, his face softened.

"You heard that, didn't you?" he guessed.

I nodded, swallowing hard.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Me too," I replied.