I realized that I was still in the same room. Still chained down. Have you ever been in a tight spot? Perhaps you had to get something from under your bed, or behind the couch. Or perhaps you were in a cave with a narrow path, thousands of pounds of rock and mountain surrounding you. If you have experienced such things, you now know how I felt lying in that bed. Trapped. Suffocated. Scared. Everything squeezes around you, your brain screams at you to move, to get out, and there are those jolts in your stomach when you can not move, even if for a second. That was the feeling of desperation I felt for the next few hours, the inability to move, to get out, to be trapped, forever.

        Finally, the soldier came into my room, and turned on the light. Today, I took a good look at him. He stood with an undaunted confidence, his eyes sharp and alert, his body taut and rigid like a wooden board. He had extremely short blonde hair, and a large scar crossing his eye. He seemed like a man of mystery, yet behind his soldierly demeanor, he had the soul of a father. I knew this man from somewhere. It seemed like he regarded me with a brotherly bond, as if I asked him to go into battle with me, he would gladly. Then a name popped into my head.

        "How is your son Pete?" I asked him. He looked at me, startled and taken aback.

        "They told me that you would have knowledge beyond your own understanding," he said quietly, and weirdly enough, normally. It was like he dropped a facade. No more yelling, no more weird voice inflections. Just a strange calmness.

        "Please, tell me what is going on!? Why can't I remember anything? Why do I have strange dreams? Why am I chained down?" I asked, the questions spitting from my mouth and my mind swirling.

        "I can't divulge that information sir. The doctor will see you in a bit, and he will give you the answers you ask for," the soldier responded.

        "Lance Corporal Hooper?" I asked.

        "Call me Brian," he said.

        "Brian? Can you undo these chains?" I asked him. He nodded, undid the chains, and left the room. I sat up, and walked towards the bathroom. It was a small and quaint little area, with a toilet, a bathtub with a shower curtain, a sink, and the most important part, the thing I went to look for, a mirror. I looked at my face, and was interested to see the boy staring back at me.

        My face was fine and chiseled, as if a great artist had a vision of a pubescent boy and went to work on a marble statue. My eyes were sharp and piercing, yet mischievous, with barely visible dark circles under them. They were a marvelous green, the green of the trees and the grass, a green that entices you and draws you in, yet strange and poisonous. My hair was short on the sides, yet long and brown on the top, a mix between curls and waves.

        "Mr. Graves? Are you in there?" I heard a man say with a knock at the door.

        "I'll be right there!" I said, and with one last look at my face, I exited the bathroom and opened the door. Standing in front of me was a strange doctor. His skin was ghoulish and a pale white. He looked rather sickly, like death itself. He had the look of disease eating him up, inch by inch, his face sunken and swollen, his body skinny and famished.

        "Hello! It has been such a time since I've seen you last," he said.

        "I've never seen you in my life," I said, stepping back from the door.        

        "Of course you have! You just don't remember. You have a strange case of retrograde amnesia. Sit on your bed, and tell me, what do you remember?" he asked, pointing to my bed.

        "I... I remember... names. Hudson Graves, Hudson Graves Jr., Maria, Jack Graves, Sofie. They all were my parents. And I dreamed last night of this beautiful redhead girl. And I knew Brian's son's name. I think I could remember more, but it is like a fog is hanging over my brain. I looked at my own face earlier and didn't recognize myself! Who am I?!" I asked desperately.

        "You are Hudson Graves Jr. Your father is Hudson Graves, and his father is Jack," he told me.

        "So that means Maria is my mother and Sofia is my grandmother?" I asked.

        "Correct. And you remember Janice ey?" he asked.

        "Janice... Janice... Janice who?" I asked.

        "The redhead. Her name is Janice. She is my daughter. She's visited you a few times while you were catatonic," he said.

        "And that's how I know her?" I asked, confused.

        "Yes," he said, nodding.

        "Where is she now?' I asked.

        "She... left. She didn't want to see you," he said.

        "Did I know her before... Whatever happened to me?" I asked.

        "...No," he said.

        "Oh..." I said. The dream had seemed so real though! He was a doctor though, so he knew best. That's what I had to believe. For now.

        "Now, what more do you remember? How about from the accident?" he asked.

        "I... I don't remember anything. I just remember waking up here. In this room. I remember school... a bit. I remember vacations, friends, simple little stuff. I don't remember where we went or who they were, no specifics, just... images," I said.

        "Mm-hmm. The amnesia is worse than it seems. No matter. We will get you fixed up in no time. We will try some lightweight experiments, see if that jolts you. If not, we will move up to the more... hardcore experiments. Subject willing, of course," he said to me.

        "Oh!? Oh, okay. Anything that can help me remember who I was," I said.

        "Of course. We want you to be the person that you always were," he said with a smirk, and then walked out of the room. The door shut, and I heard a faint lock click. I grabbed a television remote, and looked at the buttons.

        There were so many weird buttons! Some numbers, 0-9, with tiny little letters beneath them, arrows, a button reading select, another saying guide, red circle button, orange circle with a R inside it, and so on. I pressed each button, and looked at the television. About five minutes later, the television came on with the little button that said "on". Makes sense. I retaught myself through trial-and-error what each button did, and I was back to normal watching the channels.

        —I remembered sitting on a bed, at a different time, doing the same thing for hours at a time. Excited to catch my favorite show, and she was there sitting beside me. We were back in the room with the roof lights, the posters on the wall, and the bed.

        "I think it looks just like him!" the television said in a little girl's voice.

        "This part is funny because the girl is blind," the redhead said to me tapping me on the shoulder. What did the doctor say her name was? Jamie? Jennifer? Janice! I said something to her, but I couldn't hear my own words. I tried to concentrate on her face, but it was like I was watching from afar, like a person watching television. Perhaps I was looking out of the television, part of the blind girl's story and oblivious to the two kids watching cartoons on a Sunday.

        —"Mealtime!" a female voice said. A girl? Could it be Janice? Maybe she could tell me why I had these memories of her! I rushed to the door and swung it open. Standing at the door was a young nurse with blonde hair. I sagged with disappointment.

        "Where is Brian?" I asked.

        "He has been deemed... traumatizing to your psyche. Too much exposure to him and the doctor feared that your consciousness would rush back to you too quickly and potentially make you catatonic again," she told me.

        "Oh," I said.

        "I am Nurse Joy, here to provide you with your needs, and to bring you to therapy," she stated.

        "What do we have today to eat? We have a ham sandwich, some cheese crackers, a bag of chips, and a cookie," the nurse said, picking up each item and showing me. She talked in a voice as if I were a child or a dog, and it rather annoyed me.

        "Now eat up! Knock on the door when you are done!" she said, setting the tray of food down on the table beside my bed, and then with a forced smile, she walked out the door. The food was pretty good, yet it felt as if I was at school and I had brought my own lunch that my mother packed. I then knocked on the door, and it opened.

        The nurse grabbed my hand, and led me along. It was the most embarrassing thing, and I felt like such a child being led to class by the teacher. I tried to shake her hand off of mine, but she had an iron grip, and I gave up. We went down hallway after hallway, room after room, until we made it to a room. On the door was a sign that said: Electroconvulsive Therapy. The nurse opened the door, and pushed me through it.

        "Hello Hudson. We have decided to skip the normal memory recovery procedures, and go straight into the hardcore experiments," the sick doctor said to me.

         "Oh... that machine looks big. Will it hurt?" I asked.

        "Only for a bit," he said, stroking the machine.

        "Why can't we do the moderate experiments?" I asked.

        "Well, you did say you were willing to do ANYTHING to recover your memory, if I'm not mistaken. We need you to be back just as you were made to be," he said, indicating to the bed in front of the machine. I got up onto the bed, and lied down. He then placed some leather straps across my chest, arms, and legs.

        "What do you mean by 'made to be'?" I asked him. He put one last strap into my mouth.

        "If only you knew what you really are. Too bad. When your memory comes back you'll be a whole new person," he said, and with a chuckle and a snort, put something around my head.

        "It's better if you bite down rather than try to scream. No one will hear you," he said. I heard the machine turn on, and my vision went white.

Author's Note: So at the moment, I don't know if I want to publish anymore of this on Wattpad. I have this entire story ready, but I am waiting for a publisher. I have contacted multiple literacy agents, so it's just a waiting game. These are the extent of the sample pages I had to send, so I thought I would share with you guys, and get you all exited for this work! -Tryparatest