Melly identity stories

potato ❝you cant hide in minimalist furniture!❞
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
"Melly. Is that my name?" A 4 minute read.


I blink. Twice. The fogginess clears.

I’m in a hospital room.

I should be asking why, or what, or how I even got here.

But instead I have a different question.


Who are the nurses across the room? Who is the curly-haired woman standing above me? Who is the small boy who clutches her slender fingers in his chubby hands? Who.. who..

Who am I?

The curly-haired woman speaks, her eyes crinkling as she smiles. “Amelia, you’re … you’re awake. Finally.”

“Amelia.. My name?”

Her grin falters a little. “Yes, dear. Your name is Amelia. I’m your mother, and this is your brother George.” The boy steps behind the woman, his mother, my mother.

He peers out from behind her skirt.

“Melly? You look funny with those big tubes taped on you.”

I don’t even know what to say. I barely knew the boy- George. And yet here he was, calling me his "Melly". Words caught in my throat. So I just said -

“Yeah, I- I do. Yeah.”

George is out from behind my mother’s skirt now, right beside me. He grabs my hand while my mother walks toward the nurses.

“I still think you’re pretty.”

“You do?”

“Yep. The prettiest in the entire world. Melly is beeeootiful.” He stretches the word out like taffy, and I laugh a little to myself. My gaze wanders over to my mother.

“We’ve got to take her home. She’s been out for nearly two days, and can’t remember a thing.”

The nurses argue back. I can’t make out what they’re saying, nor do I have the energy. I merely focus on my mother, who stands her ground.

“And that is exactly why I must bring her home. It will do her good, jog her memory.”

She wins, I think, because before I know it, I’m in a car, and driving away. But it's not a familiar road. Even if I did forget everything, I still don't know where we're going.

Should I be afraid?

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