Thud, thud, thud. I was awakened by the sounds of heavy footsteps accompanied by the sounds of pattering rain. I struggled to open my eyes, and when I managed, I felt exhausted. My head pounded, my fingers stirred and my legs would not co-operate with me. I was welcomed with walls of white, cushioned seating areas, and the sight of wilting flowers in colorful pots. It reeked of medication, the scent of iron, entangled with freshener. Averting my gaze as gently as possible, I squinted at the calendar in the corner of the room. August.

A nurse entered my room, and nearly dropped the clipboard she had neatly tucked under her arm. Minutes later, a man in a white lab coat stood over me, eyeing my bandaged limbs and tapping them lightly. A group of men and women in scrubs joined him, one of them replaced my IV bag with a new one, and another injected me with a clear liquid. The pain was subtle and didn't last long, but I felt the feeling of fatigue and ruptured bones decrease. I attempted to make conversation with the doctor, which resulted in a croak instead. I wanted to ask them so many questions.

Who am I? How the hell did I end up here?

Soon after, a lady and a man walked in. They were dressed in matching attires and looked quite wealthy. The woman had a sneer expression on her face, and her hair rose another two inches, while the man had a mustache that curled at the ends. It looked odd to see them, there was a twinge of recognition and something else that coursed through me. The male spoke.

"How is her condition, doctor?" He asked, his voice deep. My ears began to pound as the room became more noisy, the sound of clattering equipment and hushed whispers. I just wanted all of them to leave me alone so I can return to my slumber.

"She has temporary memory loss, it's best for her to get a little more rest here before being released," The doctor scanned through the paperwork and nodded, in confirmation, "It's best if you bring her to old places, show her some pictures, anything that can help stimulate her memory again."

"Oh thank goodness, it's fortunate that she's not stuck in a coma." The man let out a breath.

The couple looked relieved, and thanked the doctor before asking them to leave us alone. They had introduced themselves once the doctor had left, the man said he was named Lee Sanghoon, and his wife, Lee Nami. Together, they were my parents. Oddly, I didn't feel the connection, yet they had each cupped a wrapped hand and pressed soft kisses to them, mumbling words of endearment and how they were thankful I was okay.

"When you're ready to go, we'll take you back home, and you can enjoy your time there Minah, yeah?" Nami said rather desperately. I guess she wanted me to be home as soon as possible. She must've sensed my confusion because she continued on, "Minah is your name. Lee Minah."

"Lee... Minah." They both seemed surprised when I had uttered such words. It was husky, and soft, yet they beamed the moment I could talk. After speaking, a wave of pure agony washed over me. I shut my eyes, clenching my fist.

"Minah, you rest here, okay?" Sanghoon responded, patting my hand gently before taking a pause. He seemed to be contemplating what he wanted to say next, "Do you... really not remember anything?"

I hesitated, before shaking my head slowly, side to side. Sanghoon sighed in disappointment, I would guess, and rose from the metallic chair he sat on. Nami followed his suit and smiled, lightly brushing some of my hair to the side. It was a kind gesture.

"We have to go to work, but you stay here, and don't move. Make sure to drink a lot of water so you can get out of here faster," Sanghoon chuckled. They both took turns kissing my forehead before disappearing beyond the door. Silence continued, only the sound of the clock ticking could be heard. I laid there extremely confused for the next few minutes, a billion questions running through my mind.

Where did I go to school? Do I even go to school anymore? Who are my friends? When is my birthday?

I decided to keep a list of topics I wanted to cover in the back of my head. However amongst the blank mind I carried, a sequence of digits lingered. Enduring the pain, I struggled to sit up. Beside me, I picked up a small scrape piece of paper, and a pen that had been abandoned along side it. Carefully, I scribbled down the numbers. A knock echoed, and the sight of a nurse popped through the door.

"Oh ! Minah, I'm glad that you're awake. It's time for you to finally enjoy a full course meal." I cringed at the sight of the food. It was lumped together in what appeared to be vegetables and some type of meat. I couldn't identify it. The rice looked stale and the metal tin had left over markings of burnt food. The nurse had settled it down on a rolling table from across the room and pushed it to settle in front of me. She peered over my pen and then switched her attention to me.

"Do you remember that?" She pointed to the digits scribbled messily on the sheet. I was surprised she could even read what I had written. The digits were unkept and the paper wrinkled all over, "This is a phone number. Odd, how you can seem to bring back this, and nothing else."

As soon as the nurse said that, she her heels and left the room without another word. Whoever's number this was seemed to be a starting point for bringing back all of my memories. I stuck my tongue out in disgust as I pushed the tray of vomit to the side. Slyly, I tucked the number into the waist band of my undergarments, and resumed to staring out the window, before falling back asleep.

It took another week before I was discharged from the hospital. The doctor had told me to take it easy, and that if any of the stitches tear open, I could go back and get it fixed. That entire week, I tried to decipher what the digits mean to me. I spent nights trying to figure out where I had seen them, much less remembered them, but nothing seemed to help. 

I thanked the doctor as I left, while Nami wrapped my closest arm over her shoulders and assisted me on my walk back to our car. Sanghoon sat at the drivers seat. He had rummaged through my belongings back inside the hospital room and had tucked my purse at the bottom of the cushioned seat. After helping me adjust safely into the vehicle, I rolled down the window and let my arm dangle over the edge. The car was brought to life with the twist of the keys, and off we were, back to where I belong. 

"Put you hand back in the window Minah," Nami scowled from the rear view mirror. Her eyes sharp, immediately causing my outstretched limb to retrack. Soon after, I had to bring the tinted window back to it's original position, and ended up with my palms in my lap. I stared out the window though, praying that a monumental object would help stimulate my brain. But my heart fell by the time we arrived to the humble home, and I recognized absolutely nothing.

Opening the car door for me, Nami had latched onto my arm, and caused me to rise from my position. The aching was faint, yet something didn't sit quite right with me. The smell of fresh cedar lingered, and the skyscraper rose fifty-two stories above the ground. The windows reflected the glare of the sun, never revealing the whereabouts of the residences they held, or the activities that were conducted there. Sanghoon had returned to us, my bag hanging loosely over his narrow shoulders as he shoved his free hand into his dress pants. Digging out what looked to be a phone, he handed the mobile device to me. Crystal clear, stainless steel, a lone button sat at the bottom-center of the phone.

"This is brand new."

Sanghoon let out a breath of laughter, gesturing to the device with a nod of his head, "It's for you, your old phone got damaged during the car incident."

I tilted my head. What car accident?

"Oh honey, we were so worried about you," Nami choked, I hadn't realized she had broken down into tears. Her hands shook, and her lower lip trembled, "They said there wasn't a chance that you'd make it. That we'd lose you forever."

"Who caused this incident?" I asked, completely shocked at the situation. No wonder I was in serious pain. Sanghoon's facial expression turned sour, and he dropped my bag to the floor. His jaw clenched, his knuckles turned white as his hands wrapped into fists. If he was a cartoon character, his face would've been bright red and had fumes escaping his ears.

"Your ex, he didn't see the god damn red light and crashed the car into a truck."

"Gee, was anybody else in the car? was I the only one injured?" I pestered. 

The three of us began making our way into the lobby of the apartment complex. The entry way was large, welcoming with glass double doors that opened with a resident key, and the interior was cozy. Tan leathered couches faced one another, situated beside roasting fire places and clear coffee tables with magazines sprawled on top. A front desk lady sat at the far back, covered by a rounded fortress that blocked her from the mouth down. Her tidy bun could be seen, and a sign that dangled by a single nail read, "Welcome to the Golden Acres."

"You and him were the only ones, no one else to blame. After you got into an accident, he took off. Didn't report you to the hospital or anything," Nami continued, leading us towards the elevator in the corner of the room. The air seemed tense, and the front desk lady didn't even look up to acknowledge our existence. However, her fingers moved quickly, the clacking of her nails against the keys of the board echoed, "His name is Oh Sehun, it's best to ignore him if he ever tries to contact you again. We wouldn't want you hurt again."

Oh Sehun. That name struck a cord in my heart, as cheesy as it sounds. My heart raced a little quicker as it tried to recall what he looked like, what he sounded like, and why I, myself, yearned to see him so badly, even after he almost sentenced me to my death.

"Alright, Nami. Thank you for that." I heard her cough lightly as we entered the metallic box. I watched as Sanghoon pressed the number 3, before the entrance slammed together, "I mean, mom."

She smiled happily after hearing that, "Our phone numbers are already in that cell, if you need anything let us know."

"Okay, I will." The elevator dinged, signalling that it was our stop. Silently, I followed them to room 101. The hallway was spacious, green carpetted floors matched sickly yellow walls while rows and rows of white wooden entries were arranged to separate evenly. Once we entered our home, the lights flickered. The living room had a lot more freedom than the kitchen. With plush sofas, bean bag chairs, scattered across a plasma screen TV, it was the perfect place for a late night movie. The rug was a faded marroon color and was a beautiful contrast to the white marbled floor and peachy wall paper. The kitchen accompanied the same marble style furniture, with granite counters and a large refridgerator. Over all, the condominium looked marvelous.

"Wow."

"Beautiful right?" Nami beamed, before pointing to the room at the far corner, "That right there is your room. Its the farthest from us, but we suspected that you'd like your privacy. Just make yourself at home like you usually do, daughter."

I gave a toothy grin before scurrying to the front of my bedroom door.

"Ah, Minah. It's time for us to go to work," Sanghoon said, placing my purse on the dining table, then peered down at his silver banded watch, "We'll be back around dinner time, if you're hungry, you can make something to eat. If not, we'll bring back something for you."

"Alright, see you soon." I waved at them, letting the smile on my face linger. They returned the gesture, and closed the door.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I swung open the door to my room. The walls screamed lilac, and the floors were fuzzy with a light beige carpet material. A dresser sat next to a closet and full length mirror. My bed was not as small as I had thought it'd be, and a laptop was set up on a desk, across from the bed. It was snug, and I had all my basic necessities in the room, even another door connected, which probably lead into the bathroom. For the next fiveteen minutes, I went around, exploring before returning back to my room. I had brought my bag with me, and was settled down on top of my bed, the piece of paper tucked between my two fingers.

Hesitantly, I punched the number into my phone. It was the perfect time to test out who was on the other end. It rang. Once. Twice. Thrice. I was certain that this was a faulty number, that it was something I had probably picked up when I was looking at the billboards outside my window. I was about to hang up the phone when...

"Hello?"

A/N: Sorry, sorry if there are any typos, or fragments, or run ons. < 3