Allen lay in bed, his mind racing with fragmented memories. He stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together his past. The nurse had told him his name, but that was about it. He had no idea who he was, where he came from, or what his life was like before the hospital.As the hours passed, Allen's memories slowly began to return. But there were still gaps, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something important was missing.The hospital staff was kind and supportive, but they were tight-lipped about his past. "You need to rest and recover," they'd say. "You'll remember everything in time."But Allen was impatient. He wanted answers now. He wanted to know who had brought him to the hospital, and why. He wanted to know what had happened to him.But no one was allowed to see him yet, except for the medical staff. The doctor had ordered complete isolation, citing Allen's fragile state.So Allen lay in bed, his mind spinning with questions, with no one to turn to for answers. He felt l
Allen's eyes snapped open in the darkened hospital room. He lay still for a moment, listening to the steady beep of the machines surrounding him. He was tired of this place, tired of the constant questions and the endless tests. He just wanted to go home.But every time he asked to be discharged, the doctors and nurses would shake their heads. "Not yet, Mr. Allen," they would say. "You're not ready."Allen threw off the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was ready. He had to get out of here.He slowly got to his feet, his head spinning slightly. He took a deep breath and began to make his way across the room, his eyes fixed on the door.As he reached the doorway, he hesitated. The hallway was dimly lit, but he could see the nurses' station at the far end. He knew they would stop him if they saw him trying to leave.Allen took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway. He moved quickly and quietly, his heart pounding in his chest.He reached the elevators and p
Allen's eyes fluttered open, his mind foggy and disoriented. He was met with darkness, and a wave of pain washed over him, threatening to engulf him. His face felt like it was on fire, and he couldn't help but groan.He tried to move, but his body felt heavy and unresponsive. He was lying on a narrow bed or table, and his wrists and ankles were bound to it.As he struggled to remember where he was and how he got there, Allen's hand instinctively went to his pocket. To his surprise, his fingers closed around a familiar shape - sunglasses.He pulled them out, confusion etched on his face. How did they get there? He didn't remember having them before.Allen's pain-addled brain struggled to make sense of it, but he was too hurt to care. He just wanted the agony to stop.With a Herculean effort, Allen managed to put on the sunglasses, the frames digging into his sore skin. But as he did, something strange happened. The darkness seemed to recede, and he could see his surroundings more clear
Allen's body convulsed on the floor, his eyes scrunched shut behind the sunglasses. He was gasping for breath, his chest heaving with sobs.A woman cane forward, dressed in what seemed like a lab coat and stared at Allen with contempt. Her voice cut through the air, irritation etched in her tone. "That's enough, Mr. Allen. Stop pretending."But Allen couldn't stop. The memories kept coming, a relentless barrage of images and emotions that threatened to tear him apart.The other people in the room exchanged skeptical glances. "He's faking it, Dr. Taylor." one of them said to the woman. Dr. Taylor's expression turned cold. "Mr. Allen, I warn you. Stop this charade immediately."But Allen's body continued to shake, his face contorted in anguish. He was beyond control, lost in a maelstrom of memories that refused to let him go."Stop it!" Dr. Taylor's voice rose to a shout. "Stop it now!"But Allen couldn't stop. He was trapped in a living nightmare, and the memories just kept coming.O
The machines surrounding Allen whirred to life, their screens flashing with data and readings. Dr. Taylor's eyes gleamed with anticipation as she raised a small device, its tip pointed directly at Allen's forehead."Shit!!" "I really have to get back my memory, I was at the brink at remembering who I am, why the heck can't I remember who I am!" Allen berated himself internally. "This is the final stage," Dr. Taylor said, her voice dripping with excitement. "We're going to push your mind to the limit, see how much you can really handle."Allen's thoughts were a jumbled mix of fear and desperation. He knew he had to resist, but his body was numb, his mind trapped.The device emitted a high-pitched whine, and a blinding light shot out, enveloping Allen's head. He felt his mind being pulled apart, his thoughts shredded by some unseen force.Dr. Taylor's voice was a distant echo, her words indistinguishable from the cacophony of pain and fear that filled Allen's mind.And then, everythin
Allen's feet pounded the pavement, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he continued to run. He had no idea where he was going, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to keep moving. As he ran, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the sunglasses, slipping them onto his face.At first, nothing seemed to change. But then, something strange began to happen. As he looked through the lenses, the familiar streets and buildings around him started to stir a deep memory. He slowed his pace, his mind racing with fragments of recollection.Wait, hadn't he turned left up ahead before? And wasn't there a big oak tree on the corner of his street? The memories were hazy, but they felt real.With growing excitement, Allen picked up his pace again, his feet carrying him in a direction he hadn't consciously chosen. But as he ran, the memories grew stronger, more vivid. He remembered the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the sidewalk. He remembered th
Stephanie was sitting on the couch, watching Allen move around the place when her eyes landed on his face. She froze, her gaze fixed on the huge bandage that covered almost half of his face. How had she not seen that before? She wondered, feeling a surge of concern. He had walked in hours ago, and she had been so caught up in the shock of seeing him that she hadn't even noticed."Allen, what happened to your face?" she asked, her voice soft with worry.Allen's movements faltered for a moment before he turned to face her. His expression was flat, unyielding. "I had an accident," he said, his voice curt.Stephanie's eyes narrowed. That was it? No explanation, no details? She knew her brother well enough to recognize when he was hiding something."What kind of accident?" she pressed, her voice firmer now.Allen's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with a warning. "Just an accident, Steph. Drop it."Stephanie's instincts screamed at her to push further, but something in Allen's expression m
Stephanie helped Allen into the hot bath, trying to relax his tense muscles. As he settled in, she noticed that he was moving slowly, his actions labored. "Hey, are you okay?" she asked, concern etched on her face. Allen nodded, his eyes closed. "Yeah, I'm fine." But Stephanie wasn't convinced. She had never seen her brother like this before. He was always so full of energy, so vibrant. Now, he seemed drained, exhausted and she knew that it wasn't because of his injury. As she helped him wash his body, he suddenly leaned forward, his body convulsing. Stephanie rushed to grab a towel as he threw up, the water splashing everywhere. "Oh my god, Allen!" she exclaimed, alarm rising. "You need to see a doctor!" But Allen shook his head, his face pale. "No, I'm fine. Just...just tired." Stephanie frowned, unconvinced. "Tired? You're throwing up, Allen! Something's wrong!" But Allen refused to listen, his jaw set in a stubborn line. "I said I'm fine, Steph. Drop it." Stephanie sighed