LOST AND FOUND IN L. A

the city last night . The city was soaked but tranquil, as if the world had released a long-held breat

night shift was gone , leading to a slower pace and softer voices. The calm atmosphere did little to

but my thoughts were racing over the recently occurred happenings. Carla was alert and exhausted at the same time

before passing over the chart I

own at the patient's name. Or ra

r now. There is no form of identification. No information, not even a mobile phone was on his

t. My pressure, which had been bulging for the past few minutes, was sharpening e

tened. "Emma, be cautious with this one. Somethi

unease. "I'll keep a

n such weather, and more so, why did he not have anything with him? The growing discomfort of wanti

nd was that of a respiration-like machine. The room was well lit and clinically clean, but there w

ll, sound machine and lights flashing with his heart. His head was masked with a damaged ba

sociopath to understand him, his face was sharp and angular and only ropes plaster covered the edges. His tousled dark hair was situated above a solid brow along which could be glimpse

. They were not the hands of someone who had spent his life behind a desk or in a boardroom. The

ough? What had left him so deeply scarred? I'd seen a lot of wealthy individuals pass through these doors-a

d on him when I saw a movement, a faint movement of his fingers. I was rooted to the ground, the air having stopped som

I breathed was hardly controlled. "Can you

nd then closing those circles again. His eyes were wide but unfocused and distant as if something in the distance was attracting

esent? That kind of thing. "You're in the hospital now

time it was his eyeballs that traced to mine. I remember within that per seconds, as little seconds, the comp

desperation, or fear, rather. He attempted to get up, but as he did so, pain jolted through him, and

he him as I held him down. "This is not on

he walls for any openings as if trapped in a thundering cage. "What...hap

ow who he was, or even his name. Why would someone wit

eping my voice steady. "You've been unconscio

ying to pull the memories from some deep, hidden place. But

d off, the words catching in his t

ke I was supposed to have all the answers. I'd seen patients with

imes after a trauma, the brain takes a little time to recover. Your memory might come back in

sperate for something to h

ame. He didn't even know his own name. How was it possible fo

o form of identification on you when you were brought in. Bu

t in and out. He was also devoid of any articulations but only I could see the tension in his bo

" The voice was scarcely loud, rather the fear that linge

uld lead to recovery for him. I could not tell, if, ever, he would remember who he was and what had happen

hough physically, it hurt really a lot, I hoped my expression was maternal. "

ng within him in his eyes. The battle of trying to form any sorts of ideas that would enab

What was there for me to express and to whom? Was there

ou are in a lot of stress. Your health

closing one's eyes and feeling one's heartache and chaos. After observing

driving on that stormy night? What was the past of this person before the incident? And most important

done and there was no way emotions were going to get in the way. But when I had turned awa

s man had gone through was just the beginning. And, for some reasons that I cannot quite arti