The Fallen Ones
Stranger
"How can I help you when I cannot help myself?"
Posts: 9
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Post by The Fallen Ones on Apr 29, 2012 18:05:55 GMT -5
September 21, 2002
How does one cope with memory loss? Besides the obvious meeting people they can't remember and then attempt to piece together what they deem worthy to share with you. Unfortunately no one has come to claim me and for now I'm just John Doe. My Doctor thought it would be a good idea to write my thoughts down in a journal. Well, what passes for a journal anyway. It looks more like a child's notebook. There are animal stickers on the front cover. Whoever owned this journal before has probably already died or maybe they've just been checked out of the hospital. The nurse is here to take my vitals. I requested for the morphine drip to be increased. There's been this unbearable pain in my back since I woke up.
I'll write again when I can.
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The Fallen Ones
Stranger
"How can I help you when I cannot help myself?"
Posts: 9
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Post by The Fallen Ones on May 5, 2012 18:05:24 GMT -5
September 25, 2002
I found a crumpled note in the pocket of my jacket today. It's from a man named Nicholas but I can't say it rings any bells. At first I thought it was from the man that found me on the highway, but the nurses told me his name was Michael and hadn't mentioned anything about knowing who I was.
Who is this Nicholas and why does he want this Dmitri to find him? Is this note to me? Am I Dmitri, and if I am, how do I know this man?
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The Fallen Ones
Stranger
"How can I help you when I cannot help myself?"
Posts: 9
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Post by The Fallen Ones on May 5, 2012 18:06:41 GMT -5
September 28, 2002
The doctors are baffled by my condition. I came to this hospital with amnesia, but there are no telling wounds to be seen. Some of them call me a miracle, but I beg to differ. My whole situation doesn't sit right with me. How did I come to be on the side of that highway, and more importantly, why do the doctors stare at me like I'm some marvel of science?
Regardless of the reason why I am in this hospital in the first place, I met a little girl in the day room just yesterday. She called herself Lady Rayne, but the orderly told me her name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth called me Dmitri the first time I met her; claimed I was an angel sent from God to save her from the asylum and her own insanity.
I wasn't sure how to respond to this, since I haven't told a soul about the note I found in my jacket pocket. There's no reason she should know my name, if it really is Dmitri.
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