Remember Me? Read Online Free PDF Page A

friends from work last night. Friday night. We went clubbing…and then we were trying to get a taxi in the rain and I slipped on the steps and fell. And I woke up in hospital. That was February 20, 2004.” My voice is trembling. “I know the date exactly, because it was my dad’s funeral the next day! I missed it, because I’m stuck here!”
    “Lexi, all of that happened more than three years ago,” Maureen says softly. “You’re remembering the wrong accident.”
    She seems so sure. They all seem so sure. Panic is rising inside me as I look at their faces. It’s 2004, I know it is. It
feels
like 2004.
    “What else do you remember?” asks Dr. Harman. “Working back from that night.”
    “I don’t know,” I say defensively. “Being at work…moving into my flat…everything!”
    “Is your memory foggy at all?”
    “A…a bit,” I admit reluctantly as the door opens. The trainee named Diana left the room a moment ago and now she’s back, holding a copy of the
Daily Mail.
She approaches the bed and glances at Harman. “Should I?”
    “Yes.” He nods. “That’s a good idea.”
    “Look, Lexi.” She points to the dateline at the top. “This is today’s paper.”
    I feel a massive jolt of shock as I read the date:
May 6, 2007.
But I mean…that’s just words printed on paper—it doesn’t prove anything. I look farther down the page, at a photograph of Tony Blair.
    “God, he’s aged!” I exclaim before I can stop myself.
    Just like Mum
flashes through my mind, and a sudden coldness trickles down my spine.
    But…that doesn’t prove anything either. Maybe the light was just unflattering.
    Hands trembling, I turn the page. There’s total silence in the room; everyone is watching me, agog. My gaze travels uncertainly over a few headlines—
Interest rates to rise…Queen on States visit
—then is drawn by a bookshop ad.
             
    Half price on all fantasy, including
    Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
             
    Okay. Now my skin is really prickling. I’ve read all the Harry Potter books, all five of them. I don’t remember any half-blood prince.
    “What’s this?” Trying to sound casual, I point at the ad. “What’s
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
?”
    “That’s the latest book,” Garth, the other trainee, says. “It came out ages ago.”
    I can’t help gasping. “There’s a sixth Harry Potter?”
    “There’s a seventh out soon!” Diana steps forward eagerly. “And
guess
what happens at the end of book six—”
    “Shh!” exclaims Nicole, the other nurse. “Don’t tell her!”
    They continue bickering, but I don’t hear them anymore. I stare at the newspaper print until it jumps about in front of my eyes. That’s why nothing made sense. It’s not Mum who’s confused—it’s me.
    “So I’ve been lying here in a coma”—I swallow hard—“for three years?”
    I can’t believe it. I’ve been Coma Girl. Everyone’s been waiting for me to wake up for three whole years. The world’s been going on without me. My family and friends have probably made me tapes, kept vigils, sung songs, and everything….
    But Dr. Harman is shaking his head. “No, that’s not it. Lexi, you were only admitted five days ago.”
    What?
    Enough. I can’t cope with this anymore. I came into hospital five days ago in 2004—but now magically it’s 2007? Where are we, bloody Narnia?
    “I don’t understand!” I say helplessly, thrusting the paper aside. “Am I hallucinating? Have I gone
crazy
?”
    “No!” Dr. Harman says emphatically. “Lexi, I think you’re suffering from what we call retrograde amnesia. It’s a condition which normally arises following head injuries, but it seems that yours might be quite lengthy.”
    He carries on speaking, but his words aren’t fixing properly in my brain. As I look around at the staff, I suddenly feel suspicion. They look fake. These aren’t real medical professionals, are they? Is this a real