I slept for 24 years

It’s been a tough couple of days, and I feel like I’m going insane. <br><br>I woke up on a ventilator. I can’t explain the confusion I felt. Every dream, every bit of my life, was lost in an instant. I didn’t know where I was, who I was, or why I was there. The beeping and screeching of the hospital equipment terrified me. <br><br>The only two people in the room were an older man and a younger woman. The man stood at the window, looking outside. He was tall, and his black hair was stark white. The woman sat next to him, holding his hand, “Dad, do you still think she remembers?”<br><br>The old man didn’t answer. He stood there for what felt like an eternity, his eyes not moving from the window. <br><br>A nurse walked in, breaking the silence, “You two need to go outside.”<br><br>“Yes ma’am, of course.” <br><br>He grabbed my hand with his wrinkly fingers, “Amy, please don’t forget again.”<br><br>I still had no recollection of my life. But the only thing I could think of when I heard that name was, <br><br>“Daddy?”<br><br>The man’s eyes welled up with tears. Twenty-four years had passed, but he still looked like my father.<br><br>“Do you remember anything?” He asked.<br><br>“Your name is what came to mind when you called me Amy. And you look like my father.” I answered.<br><br>Tears streamed down his face as he hugged me, “Amy, you’re safe now.”<br><br>I made it to the rehab center a week later. It’s a lot harder to walk than I remembered. I broke my leg in a car accident, and it had been years since I’d walked. <br><br>I still don’t remember much, but I have a few fragments. I broke my leg in a car accident. My dad owns a very successful business. And I have no mother.<br><br>It’s been a few months now, and I can walk, but I still don’t remember. The doctors say I might never, but they’re not “one hundred percent sure”. Whatever that means. I’m doing my best to adapt, but I don’t feel like myself. I don’t know if I ever will. To top it all off, I’m “twenty-eight” now. <br><br>My life is gone. Twenty-four years of my life are gone, and I can’t get them back. I’m doing everything I can to recreate my life and adapt. But I may never feel complete. And that’s a terrifying thought, living the rest of my life incomplete.<br><br>I may never be whole again.