Eleanor hasn't felt right since the accident. At night her sleep is plagued with terrifying dreams and in the day she spends her life with family and friends that she does not remember. As times goes on and the nightmares become worse, Eleanor begins to recollect memories that do not belong to her. Or do they?
She had stepped into darkness, but now all she sees is blinding light. She shields her face with her hands, but the light still shines through them, as if they are substanceless.
There's a loud noise, a mechanical scream. She knows that if she doesn't move she'll die, and she tries to, but her legs have sunk into the ground.
The light becomes even brighter, and the brakes' squeals are echoing as the car is almost upon her. She braces herself for impact, but no amount of preparation could have eased the crushing feeling in her lungs.
A voice calls out a name as she is flung forwards. She is flying. No, she is soaring.
A pair of hands came out from nowhere and clasped onto her shoulders to stop her from going any further. The suddenness of this caused her eyes to snap open.
For a brief moment she saw the darkness again, but then something in front reached past her and snapped on the bedside lamp. The bulb hummed into life and quickly illuminated the bedroom.
She found herself staring directly into a heart-shaped face that was almost identical to her own, but she was still not familiar with its features. To her, the long brown hair and dark eyes could have belonged to a stranger. It took her longer than it should have to identify this girl as her twin sister.
Her sister tried not to look so hurt. She understood that Eleanor had forgotten most things since the accident.
Speaking calmly in a measured tone, she told her "It's me. Your sister Natalie." She repeated the same thing she had told her every night for the last six months. "You've had a bad dream."
Eleanor could not recall much about the accident, but the mention of it sent shivers down her spine. She tried not to think about it, but since then she had frequently experienced queer, and often distressing dreams. It was even worse for Natalie, who would be awakened by her sister at night and witness her throwing herself backwards and forwards in her sleep.
There was a sheen of sweat covering her skin. Natalie placed a hand on her forehead to check her temperature, then removed it abruptly.
"You're freezing!" gasped Natalie. She put her hand there once more, not quite believing how one could be so cold yet still alive.
Eleanor, worried by her sister's reaction, touched her cheek. It felt fine to her and she told her sister so. Natalie shook her head in disbelief.
She got up off her sister's bed and left their room. A moment later she returned with a pile of blankets in her arms. She insisted that Eleanor sleep with them over her covers. At first Eleanor protested, but when Natalie threatened to wake their parents she gave in.
Following Natalie's instructions she laid back down on her bed so that her sister could drape the blankets over her.
When Natalie had finished tucking her in she climbed into her own bed, switching off the bedside lamp on the way. Eleanor felt her eyelids grow heavy and began to drift into a doze.
"Goodnight Eleanor," she heard her sister say from somewhere distant. The voice seemed to echo, bouncing off the empty space of where ever one goes when they fall asleep but do not yet dream.
Eleanor, Eleanor, Eleanor...
Eleanor, it was the name that everyone had been calling her since she first woke up and even in her dreams she could not escape it.
Who was she? She supposed she was Eleanor, but Eleanor was not her name.
"My name is-"