Prologue
January 17, 2015
Dear Diary,
It's been a week that I'd been discharged. Three weeks I spent in the hospital room thinking about the life that awaits me once I'm home... thinking about things I'd do to make every second of my lost days count again, and failed to do any of it, trying to adjust to the changes. I thought about it over and over again that I can just forget everything that happened... everything that everyone around me had been saying in the past three weeks. Everything I've been avoiding looking at or accepting. But, how can anyone accept the fact that there's been so much going on in your life and you've no idea about it?
As I now sit on the ledge of the window in my bedroom, all I can think is that this is my room. I'm home. Yet, when I first stepped in after my brief absence here, I felt like I'm lost and that this is no more my room. That this home is no more my home. To my horror justification, they said that I moved out three months after I graduated. And graduated I did in the year 2012. They said that I asked them to so that I can face the world on my own. Which is, now as I think about it, is a total crap. I would never leave my parents and siblings and go off to live my life. I could never do that.
And again, I can't ignore the evidences that's been staring at me ever since I opened my eyes three weeks ago to an unfamiliar room with unfamiliar person beside me, his hand holding mine as I flutter into consciousness. I was scared to find a stranger with me. I was unable to calm down till I saw my brother rushing towards me. That and the events that followed shook me off from my very existence. It turned out that the stranger was a friend of mine, a close friend. But why couldn't I remember him?
Oh yeah, that's because I'm suffering from some kind of memory loss after the fatal accident on 1st of this month. The New Year Eve turned out to be a cruel, sick joke. That's not all there is. I couldn't find a single journal in the room I was living as a paying guest the past years after I moved out. There was nothing that could tell me what had been going on with me and how I ended up on a death bed. Almost death bed.
If these are not enough to freak me out, there's this band on my ring finger that's mocking at me. The simple gold band with the letter "A" carved on it. I came up with two theories for the band though. Either I was married or engaged to be married, and the worst part of it all is, none of my family or friends, are aware of these happenings in my life.
This is freaking me out. But I need to know. Every damn thing in the past. And about the story behind my accident and the ring. I can't rest in peace until I reach the truth.
Khushi Gupta
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