Young Writers Society

“Luke?” a shrill voice said from behind the ominous counter. I took a deep breath and switched my piece of chewing gum from one side of my mouth to the other. Slowly, I got up and walked over to the receptionist, my heart beating like a jack-hammer as I felt the other people’s stares drilling into the back of my head as if they had laser-vision.

“Yes, that’s me.” I blurted, looking down at the plump, probably about fifty, with died platinum-blonde hair receptionist. Her manicured nails skated across the keyboard of the computer. My stomach was churning in a way I’d never felt before.

“Dr. Richards will take you to see Victor.” She said, her voice nasally and too high for my liking.

An elderly man walked towards me, his spare grey hair combed over the top of his head and his placid grey eyes almost hidden behind a thick pair of black glasses. Dressed quite casually, though he looked like he belonged in a white coat, I took a liking to him instantly.

“Hi, I’m Luke.” I said. Smiling, he shook my hand;

“I’m Dr. Richards but you can call me Al.” He said, leading out of the small waiting room and into a long, brightly lit corridor.

“So, how do you know Victor?” Al asked, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

I winced, and if Al saw it he didn’t show it. A memory passed through my mind, and I tried to focus on it, but it was hazy and out of reach.

“Well, I just woke up from a coma about a week ago and I don’t remember anything before that, but, apparently Victor is my twin.” I said, quietly, focusing on the long corridor. Al looked taken aback but quickly regained his composure.

“What happened? I know it seems like a silly question since you can’t remember anything, but has anyone told you how you got into a coma?” Al said, his eyes alight with curiosity. I closed my eyes and for a second forgot I was in that depressing hospital hallway, as I got swept up into the ocean of memories.

Voices, too many.

That was all I could think of in that moment. A large, booming male voice, echoing over everyone else’s, but I didn’t bother trying to decipher what he was saying. A softer, possibly female voice was trying to sooth him it seemed. Many other voices, loud, soft, angry, sad, happy and annoyed.

Where the hell was I?

The question echoed around my head, almost as annoying as all the noise. I tried to think back, but it was like I was standing on the edge of a cliff and my memories where lost in the black abyss of the drop. I could think, couldn’t I? And if I concentrated I could hear what people were saying.

A deep-seated panic took hold of me, as I lay there. It was a horrible claustrophobic sensation, and a sense of hopelessness that burned into my mind. Frantically, I tried to search my mind for any recollection of the past, but it was like my memory started today, I couldn’t remember a thing about where I was or even who I was.

What was my name? More questions, so many buzzing around my head. Hopelessness so great and overpowering it crippled me.

Finally I summoned the courage to try and open my eyes, it felt like they had been sewn shut and I was ripping the stitching out.

My first sight of the room was the ceiling I’m pretty sure. A stark white with the occasional crack or bump. Feeling for my arm, I shifted it, inch by inch, my body feeling like lead, trying in vain to prop myself up.

I heard a shriek and had the sudden urge to cover my ears, when two arms wrapped around me. Dazed, I felt someone push them away and felt a reassuring hand help to prop me up.

Flashes of colour, bright and fleeting. I had a headache, it was throbbing painfully against my temple. My eyes were finally able to focus and I looked down at my body, pale and frail and wrapped in a hospital gown. I was lying on what looked to be a hospital bed, and a drip was attached to my arm, connected to a complicated set of machines that read my heart rate.

There was four people in the room, two people were sitting in the hard back chairs that lined the far side of the room and the other two were being restrained by what seemed to be a doctor, the women gesturing wildly to me, her cheeks tearstained. The man seemed a lot calmer, but you could see in his eyes a wild frantic panic.

I looked down at my hands, pail and thin. When I looked up a tall, thin man was leading the four people out of the room, trying to sooth the hysterical woman. For a second a felt a horrible, sinking feeling as I thought of how they might be family, yet I had no recollection of them at all.

With shaking hands, I felt my face, the contours and shapes that where so unfamiliar to me, trying to find, something, anything, that triggered a memory from my past, as worried doctors encircled me like vultures.

“You all right, Luke?” Al asked, his weary face creased and brow furrowed.

I ran a hand through my hair and tried to steady my hands, which were shaking violently.

“Yeah I’m fine. Well, the police said that I’d just gone over to a friends place , and I just collapsed on the side of the road, coming back. Hit my head pretty hard against the concrete and was out like a light.” I said, looking at him from behind my hair. He nodded, his face slightly grimmer than before.

“Most unusual… most unusual…” Al mumbled to himself. “Victor collapsed much the same actually. He was walking back from school I’m told and just suddenly…” He trailed, his eyes thoughtful.

We paused at the end of the hallway, turning into what looked to be a hospital room, with two beds and a curtain splitting the room in two. Al paused, looking over at me.

“You all right, Luke?” He asked, resting a hand on my shoulder. I nodded, taking a deep breath to steady myself. Al lead me over to the bed on the right, where a person was lying, well more like just a lump under the covers, and was attached to much the same machine as me. My stomach was doing backflips, and I felt bile rising in my throat. Why was I so scared of him, we’re twins aren’t we?

The stark lights glared down at me as my sneakers clicked on the hard floor, and I could feel the nurse’s stares, penetrating through the thin curtain.

I shuffled over to the hospital bed, and with shaking hands I lifted the cover from Victor’s face. He looked like, well, my twin. Black hair, short at the side, a sweeping fringe, and a thin frame, and I’m sure that if he opened his eyes he’d have an icy-blue gaze. His face was pale and he looked so vulnerable, his eyes hollow and cheekbones sharp as if he hadn’t been eating for a while and he looked so much younger than sixteen.

I sat down at the chair beside him and Al took the hint and shuffled outside into the corridor.

I brought his hand out from the sheets and squeezed it, holding onto him like my life depended on it.

I felt such a connection in that moment, like he was sitting up and we were talking, as I looked into his pale, vulnerable face.

“How could this happen?” I whispered to him, tears trickling down my face as I looked down at Victor, so pale and lifeless. How could he be alive? He looked like some sick kind of doll.

And so I stayed like that, rocking back and forth in that old hard-backed chair as I stared at my twin who I didn’t remember at all.