I'd been awake for an hour when the doctor came in, smiling at me.
"Hi. I'm going to ask you a few questions, alright?" She had straight black hair, and she looked tired, but she didn't show it. I nodded for her, realizing I shouldn't have when my head began throbbing.
"Can you tell me your name?"
"Nikki Marie-Sophie Grace Chrime," I answered blandly.
"And how old are you?"
"I'm sixteen, turning seventeen on the third next month."
"Well, there's no need to ask for your birth date now." She smiled. She went on to ask me more questions like, what are my parents' names, who's the president, what school do I go to, and various other things along those lines.
She asked me what I had for lunch yesterday, and I didn't remember. But I told her I didn't eat lunch, because I haven't eaten lunch in almost three months.
When I thought about it, I couldn't remember anything about yesterday, except moments from the attack. And even those were fuzzy.
My doctor had told me that today was the twentieth. But, the last day I remember was seventh. Could I really have lost two weeks of my memory?
"Nikki, your mom and Sam were here all night. They went back home to freshen up, but they'll be back later this afternoon. For now, though, you need your rest." She messed with my IV bag, and then I fell asleep. I really didn't like being forced to sleep, but I didn't really have any say in it.
I heard low murmuring next to my ear when I woke up next. I recognized the voice, but it took me a moment to put a name to it.
I opened my eyes and looked over to see Sam kneeling next to me. We were in the sterile-looking white room still. I stared at him, wondering how long it'd take him to figure out that I was awake now. I listened to what he was saying, but it didn't make any sense. Was he praying?
He looked up at me, startled to find my eyes. "Hey."
"Hey yourself," I croaked. My voice was hoarse.
"How are you feeling?" He asked me. I couldn't read the expression in his eyes. Then again, I could barely see his eyes.
"How do you think? I was attacked, stabbed, got my skull cracked open with a concussion on the side, my wrist is fractured, and I lost two weeks of my memory." I listed, counting each item on my fingers. "But, considering, I suppose I'm fairly optimistic. Doctor says I'll live. Maybe not comfortably, but I guess that's a small price to pay."
He laughed. "Well, it appears you still have your sense of humor. That's a good sign, right?"
"You tell me." I sighed and closed my eyes, for just a little while. I didn't open them again.
A few days later, I was allowed to go home. The doctors had determined that I had no brain damage of any sort, aside from the concussion. My stab wound was healing really well, and my wrist would be in a brace or a sling for a few months or so. My memory should come back, but there wasn't much to be done if it didn't... It was only two weeks, and I wasn't very concerned.
I wouldn't be attending school again until after break. I was fine with that, too.
During winter break, Sam seemed to spend almost every day at my house with me. I was rarely allowed to leave my bed for the first few days, so that I wouldn't move my head around too much. If I felt dizzy or nauseous, I had to go back to the hospital immediately. My mom only had Christmas Eve and Christmas day off, so the four of us, my mom, Sam, his father, and I, celebrated it at my place because Sam refused to leave my side except during the night, when he was forced to go back to his own appartment and sleep.
After New Years, my stab wound and concussion were pretty much healed. I was now free to move about, which was a wonderful start to a new year.