"Blair, I'm sorry!" was the last thing I remember hearing before everything went dark.

I woke up in a dimly lit room that smelled of nothing but cleanliness. The strange smell got to me first, but then I realized there were plastic tubes and needles sticking up my arms and nose. My first reaction was to use the small amount of strength I had to pull all of them out. I immediately stopped once my fear was substituted by pain.

"Wha—!" I began, but stopped when I heard how hoarse and awkward my voice sounded. Was I supposed to sound like this? I tried hard to think back to what my normal voice was like, but my mind went blank.

A murmur broke my trance of confusion and worry bringing me back to reality, "Please Blair, don't pull on those. They're keeping you alive."

My head jerked towards the direction of whoever had said that, but he or she was standing in the shadows and I couldn't see them very well. I swiftly cleared my throat and muttered, "Who—who are you?"

The stranger hesitantly stepped into the light showing off her dark brown hair with streaks of gray. She had faded hazel eyes that were underlined by apparent bags. When it was clear that I still hadn't recognized her, she rushed by my side and grasped my right hand in hers. Panicking, she traced the outline of her face with my fingers. I didn't have a clue as to what she was doing, but somehow I felt like I should have known who this vexed woman was.

"Blair—," she cried, tears quickly forming and falling from her face.

I desperately tried to break away from this daunting lady, but her grip was too strong. "Help! Help!" I gasped, barely above a whisper. The whole situation was just like a nightmare, when you cry out but you can't even utter a sound.

"Blair!" Her bawl was starting to sound more like a shriek now.

"Please—I don't know you or Blair! Help!" I shouted, my calls for assistance growing louder.

Just when I thought she was going to start choking me, she let go and abruptly fell to the ground. I protectively pulled my arms to my chest and panted heavily.

The deranged woman slowly pulled herself up and whispered, "You should…I am your mother."

"No—no," I stuttered, not sure as to what to say, "I would have known who you are then."

"Then why don't you?" She replied, wiping away all of her tears. Did I have an answer to that? No. I didn't.

"I don't—I can't remember."

"Oh no, Blair you have to! Please remember!" She freaked rushing out of the door calling for aid. A few seconds later, she came back in followed by a startled looking doctor. The expression upon his face made me even tenser and nauseas. Someone who is supposed to assist you shouldn't look as if he was uncertain.

"Let me ask you something, Doctor Lynch. Are you experienced?" My question hung in the air as my mother and the doctor stared at me with large apprehensive eyes.

He scribbled a few notes down onto his note pad before daring to answer me. "In all honesty…no, I'm not experienced. But you don't have anything to worry about. You are recovering quite well from the—uh—incident."

Incident? What incident? I looked towards my mom for further explanation, but she wouldn't even meet my gaze. What happened that had me ending up in the hospital?

"You've fractured and broken a few bones—mainly in your leg. There are also several stitches in your head, so I advise you to not play around with them. In a couple of days, you should be able to leave this hospital. I'm afraid you're going to have to use crutches for six weeks though. You should practice with them as much as you can. I'll have them sent up to your room in about fifteen minutes."

"Thank-you for the information, Doctor Lynch…but can you tell me why my daughter has absolutely no memory as to who I am?" I could feel my mother tightening her grip on my hand.

The doctor coughed slightly as he told us the news we dreaded, "Blair Kyle, I'm sorry to tell you this—but you have amnesia. Before you ask me if there's a cure, I have to break it to you that there isn't. This amnesia thing is tricky to us all. Sometimes people get their memories back, and sometimes they don't. My advice is that you look through photo albums and maybe talk to a few people you were close to. You can even read through a diary that you might have kept. The best way to regain your memory is through time. Now, please excuse me, I have some business to tend to."

I watched him as he fumbled around with the paper work and place them on the clipboard at the foot of my bed. He left afterwards, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as I heard the click from the bolt of the door, I stopped trying to hold back the tears and allowed them to stream down the sides of my face. How could I lose everything I knew just like that?

"Oh, Blair, honey, it'll be alright," my mom cooed burying my head into her chest. Her soft words comforted me, but I barely knew this woman.