back to my side, and took my hand in hers. She stared at me for a few lingering moments.
“You’re okay,” she stressed on a shaky breath. “That’s all that matters.”
I didn’t believe her; she had never been a very good liar.
“Okay.”
“Your accident caused your coma, but it seems to have caused some memory loss for you too.”
Slowly, I nodded. “Yeah, I can’t remember the accident.”
“And other things.”
“What?” I blinked, confused. “What other things?”
“Baby, you . . . you think it’s 2015.”
Her words weren’t much more than a whisper, but I heard them. I wasn’t sure how long I stared at her, how long it took for me to comprehend what she had said – but when I did, I swallowed.
“Because it is 2015.” I frowned deeply. “It’s March, tomorrow is St Patrick’s Day. Or at least it was, that’s the last thing I remember. Fifteen days have passed by since then.”
Mum began to cry as she shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Instead, she gripped my hand tighter.
“No, honey,” she managed to say.
“No?” I swallowed. “What do you mean no?”
“It’s
I couldn’t comprehend what she was saying, and I didn’t even attempt to.
“No.” I squeezed her hand tightly as I shook my head. “I’m twenty-four. It’s the sixteenth of March, tomorrow is the seventeenth – or it was before the accident and my coma. Me and Elliot were coming over for dinner . . . remember? You were gonna cook us a roast, with extra stuffing for Elliot. You remember, Mum, right?”
At the mention of my boyfriend, I prayed that he would show up soon because everything was messed up in my head and I needed him more than I had ever needed him in my life. He was my centre, my rock. I had to have him with me to help me make sense of this. To make sense of what my mum was saying to me.
Mum cried harder and I began to panic.
“Dad!” I shouted. “Daddy!”
I hadn’t called him that since I was a child, but the terror I felt allowed for nothing less than the cry of a little girl who needed her father.
“Noah.” Mum gripped my hand tight. “Listen to me first—”
“Dad,” I gasped when he filled the doorway.
My heart constricted with pain as my eyes rolled over him. He was over six foot tall and had always been a heavyset man with thick black hair and a beard to match. The man across from me now was skinny, bald and freshly shaved. His face was slightly gaunt, and he had aged. He was my dad though; I’d know him anywhere.
“Daddy, what’s going on? What happened to you?”
I began to cry, fear latching on to me like an octopus’s tentacles.
“Baby girl.” He crossed the room, his emerald-green eyes glazed over with tears. “Mummy is telling the truth. It’s the third of April, 2020.”
“No,” I said firmly. “No!”
Even as I said this, my heart had already accepted my parents’ words as the truth. My father had changed more than a person physically could in just fifteen days, but I didn’t want to believe that I had lost five years of my life, just like that. I couldn’t have lost that much time.
I couldn’t have, I had to fight it – I had to do . . . something.
“This can’t be real,” I said, reeling, my stomach churning with sickness. “It just can’t be, this is a nightmare. It’s not real, it’s not.”
“We’ll get through this together,” Mum sniffled, her thumbs gently stroking my knuckles. “I’m never letting us drift apart ever again.”
Again?
“What do you mean, Mum?” I questioned as dread filled me. “We’ve never drifted apart; we’ve always been close. Always.”
The bond I had with my parents was solid; every decision in my life was made with them in mind. The college I went to so I could remain close to them, the flat I eventually moved into, the job I had. Everything revolved around my family because of how much I loved and adored them.
“We have so much to talk about,” Dad said, leaning over and softly brushing his fingers against my cheek. “We’ll discuss everything, but right now you need to focus on healing, baby girl.”
Something was desperately wrong with him. Everything had changed about him – his appearance, his voice, though not his touch or the love for me that shone in his eyes. The soft brush of his fingers on my cheek held so much tenderness it