“Lola? Is everything okay?”

I shook my head in confusion and glanced up at Doctor Jacobs, suddenly remembering where I was. I tugged at a small piece of loose thread on the seam of the single overstuffed couch, and shrugged.

“Everything’s fine. Well, you know, as fine as it can be considering I can’t remember a damn thing about my life.”

“You’ve made really good progress these last few weeks. You should be proud of yourself,” he said, giving me a genuine smile that almost had me convinced.

He continued to write notes in the two-inch thick folder with my name sprawled across the front in bold, black letters. I had often wondered what was in that folder, what he had written during every session. What did he really think of me? Once, he had been called out of the office by Linda, his receptionist, and the folder had been there, staring at me, goading me with its bold letters and strong binding. It was almost giving me permission to open it, to give in to my needs. I didn’t, though. Part of me was afraid of what I might find. Did it hold the answers I needed to make all of this go away?

I pushed those thoughts aside, knowing I would never open it, and said, “How can I be proud of myself when I don’t really even know who I am?”

“Just because you can’t remember doesn’t mean you aren’t who you appear to be. Maybe you’ve always been this way. From where I’m sitting, you’re not a bad person, Lola.”

“Maybe,” I answered with a hint of uncertainty. “Some days I’ll do something, like choose a red lipstick over pink, and think, why did I do that? Would the old me have preferred red to pink? Or was it the other way around? Sometimes I’m scared that I’m changing who I used to be because I can’t remember what the old me liked and disliked. It’s crazy, I know,” I said, a nervous laugh escaping my throat.

“I don’t think it’s crazy, Lola. I think you are acting the way anyone would in your situation. Memory loss doesn’t make you crazy or unhinged. Albeit, I can imagine it is extremely frustrating for you, and until you recall every small detail, it will continue to be frustrating. Does it make you crazy?” he asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

I could only nod in response, mainly because I didn’t know what else to say, but also because I was afraid if I said anything else I would start to sound as crazy as I felt.

“How about school? Are you making new friends?”

I shrugged. “I guess. I mean, I have Brie.”

“And how is that? I take it you’ve told her about the…”

“The accident?” I finish for him. “She knows. Well, as much as I know anyway, which isn’t all that much.”

Sighing, he leaned forward, dropping his pen against the folder in front of him. My folder.

“Lola, my job is to support you and help you through this challenging time in your life. It’s also my job to be here when your memories do come back, but I’m going to need something from you.” He paused for a second as if he wasn’t sure he should say the next words. “I’m going to need you to remember.”

I held my breath, slightly taken aback by his bluntness. What did he mean? I was here. I was trying. Wasn’t I?

I shook my head and opened my mouth to speak. “I’m… I’m trying,” I finally managed to say.

“And what about the dreams? Are they still occurring?”

“Sometimes.” I curled my fingers around my wrist and began to rub, needing that comforting feeling of hope.

“Have they changed?”

I frowned. “Changed?”

“Yes, changed. Has anything significant happened in these dreams to make you question if they are a reminder or not?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “No, not really. Just the usual.” It wasn’t a lie. Nothing else ever really happened in the dreams. All I ever saw was smoke and all I felt was my chest tightening and my throat constricting as I fought for breath.

“Do you want to remember, Lola?” he asked with raised brows.

“Wha… What?” I stuttered. “Of course I do. Why would you ask that?”

“I’m not trying to upset you.”

“Well, it sure feels like you are.” Tears threatened my eyes and I felt my lower lip begin to tremble. I rubbed furiously at the scar, pressing my fingertips into my wrist as hard as I could as I attempted to feel that thing I craved the most. The one feeling I knew I would find if I searched out that silver scar. Only I couldn’t. Panic sunk in, and I felt like a child seeking comfort from her mother, but never quite getting it, and for the first time in over a year, that small, sought out action, did not help.

My chest continued to heave, sucking away every ounce of breath in my lungs and replacing it with a burning heat that not even I could understand. I knew what it was. It happened often when everything got too much for me to handle. I was having a panic attack. Only this time, it was as if I was back in the car. Helpless.

Deep breaths, Lola, I told myself as I continued to puff through an invisible paper bag. I scrunched my eyes shut and forced my mind to remember a happier time in my life, but I was limited. It wasn’t helping and all I could do was cling to hope and the life I was grateful to have.

One breath. Two breaths…Three...

Only when my breathing returned to normal did Doctor Jacobs make his presence known.

He sighed and picked up his ballpoint pen. “I know you’re scared,” he started, and I shook my head.

“You don’t know anything.”

“Maybe not,” he agreed, finally looking at me. “But I’m not the one refusing to remember,” he said flatly. “I’m just worried that the longer this goes on, the more it’s going to affect you later on in life. I don’t want that for you, Lola. I want to help you.”

“You want to help me?” I seethed, my defences kicking in. I reached for my bag, tucked between the legs of the chair, and pushed up from the couch. “You can help me by leaving me alone.”

“Lola,” he said in warning.

“I don’t remember!” I yelled, reaching for the door. “And this is pointless. I’m never going to remember. Maybe we should just face the truth.” I threw my hands up in the air. “I am never going to be normal. The sooner I believe that, the better. Goodbye, Doctor Jacobs,”

Closing the door firmly behind me, I sighed and dropped my head to rest against the door. Jen and Andy were going to be so mad at me for leaving. I knew how much money they spent on these sessions. They didn’t come cheap. I wasn’t sure why they continued to go through with them when they clearly weren’t helping. Days like this only made everything so much worse.

Thirteen months and still nothing.

After the morning’s therapy session, I spent the afternoon fretting over the conversation I would have to have with Jen and Andy when I eventually returned home from school. I didn’t want them to think I was being ungrateful, and I knew they were only trying to help, but maybe if I just explained that I wasn’t comfortable speaking with Doctor Jacobs anymore they would respect my wishes. Of course I wanted to remember. That was all I had thought and dreamed of. Remembering my friends from back home, the summer holidays I’d had as a kid, and all the other stuff teenagers go through, like having their first kiss. Oh my God. What if I’d never been kissed before? Imagine being nineteen and never once experiencing a proper kiss. Or even a sloppy first one.

“Hello? Earth to Lola,” Brie said, interrupting my train of thought.

I shook my head and frowned. “Huh?”

Brie rolled her big, brown eyes and pursed her lips, annoyed. “I was just saying how lucky Melanie is. I mean, not many girls get to make out with the hottest guy in school once, let alone repeatedly.”

I could already tell where her mind had wandered to. The hearts that fluttered from her eyelids every time she blinked were a dead giveaway. “Make out? What are you, ten? No one says that anymore.”

“Whatever, it’s not like you haven't thought about getting down and dirty with that fine piece of arse before,” she said, eyeing him appreciatively.

“I haven’t and I wouldn’t. Besides, since when did you become Taylor’s number one fan? I thought you were happy with Riley?”

“I am.” She shrugged. “But a girl can look, right?”

I rolled my eyes and pushed the textbook in front of her. “Whatever. Shut up and help me with this.”

“Ew, no thanks. I’d rather not,” she said, not even bothering to look. “What’s so wrong with him anyway?” she continued, her focus still on Taylor.

“Erm… I think the question is, what isn’t? Just because you have no morals when it comes to the opposite sex, it doesn’t mean that I don’t. Have you seen the girls he’s been with? The boy is probably riddled with STDs and on a first name basis with the staff at the GUM clinic.” That thought alone sent an unpleasant shiver through me.

“Wow. You really don’t like him, do you?”

I sighed. “To not like someone, you have to know them. I don’t know him. I’m just not interested.”

“For someone who isn’t interested, you sure have a lot to say about him,” she said, finally looking up and hitting me with a knowing look.

“Seriously? Shut up and do some work before you get us both in trouble.” I shook my head and risked a glance at the row of seats a few feet in front of me. It was like Taylor could feel my eyes on him and sense my every move. He turned in his seat, a sly grin spreading across his cheeks, and then… he winked.

He winked.

I quickly dropped my gaze, almost choking, and suddenly I found myself thinking of every excuse I could to change classes. All the while, Brie was reeling off a list of pros and cons to dating Taylor effin’ Lawson.

Today officially sucks.