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fall of 2006<br>
st. remigius hospital
He had initially woken up a week ago, or what he had been told was a week ago. With how often he was falling in and out of sleep it was hard to keep his days straight. Throw in an ever present ache in his body and searing pain that felt like hot pokers being scraped on the inside of his skull and it all made for a rather unpleasant hospital stay thus far. An older couple had taken to visiting him regularly- saying not only were they his parents, but they'd been present when he first woke up. Though judging from how that memory was nothing more then a child's interpretive finger painting rendition of a rainbow, Big Foot could have been there for all he knew. Regardless of his lacking the ability to recall if he'd ever seen such a piece of art, the phrase seemed to fit the memory he <i>did</i> have.<p>
Still, the red haired couple had told him his name, among other things. Which was more than what he had to go off of when he first woke. It was strange, he knew what things were- but at the same time didn't. He would look at a table, think table- say table- but it was the only image he had tied to the word. To him, as it was now, a table was the small wooden thing squished between two arm chairs in the corner of his room. Initially he'd shared a room, but at some point they had moved him and he simply woke up in the sterile single cell with a north facing window so as to minimize his exposure to any direct sun light. Which was fine by him, the rays of light made it feel like someone was setting his brain on fire. Which, again, while not something he actually knew (or anyone else for that matter) seemed to fit his proverbial needs of the moment.<p>
Propped up in his bed, thanks to a rather meticulous elderly nurse and a mechanical bed, he'd been instructed to keep movements, stress, and anything else that might be judged taxing to a minimum. Despite his assurances however, the nurse gave him a cross look and had made him feel like a school boy caught lying in church- which was truly odd considering thus far he didn't strike himself as a particularly religious person. She'd then left him with a file that his 'parents' and doctor had compiled and told him to stay put. As if he could willingly move after the way she tucked his sheets. Spending a good ten minutes slowly working the cotton shackles loose he eventually picked up the- manila? Yes, that was it- manila folder from the movable tray like thing- that didn't seem very tableish to him but apparently was one- positioned over his lap and flipped open the cover. Like his current position, the papers and photos had been meticulous compiled. Hole punched and fitted into the folder with something he could only describe as an authoritarian level of precision. He was a bit disappointed however, for he'd seen most of the papers before. <p>
The couple had said his name was Mathias Sterling Case- questionable naming creativity aside- as of October twenty-fourth he was twenty years old, was currently attending a local university as an undeclared major and had spent most if not all of his life in this town (which was apparently called Dawning). He was their eldest son and according to one of the pictures- had at least one younger brother. Justin. Brows furrowed some at the name, were they seriously that inept? Justin Case? He flipped the picture over to look at the other, shorter, readhead who- like him apparently- had been forced to pose for the picture. <br>
Something felt off about the image, as though it was showing him red and he was saying green. Setting it aside for later inspection he moved onto skimming a brief copy of what looked like his medical records. He'd broken his right arm twice, his left three times (was he clumsy or something?), and had suffered a near break of his right ankle. Adding this new information to the scars he'd noticed, and taken to inspecting once they let him do the task of bathing itself on his own (but under supervision), Mathias- or Mat as he apparently preferred to be called- could only conclude he was either a klutz, or partook in some rather contact oriented activities.<p>
A car accident. That's what they said it had been, but for being in a car accident he felt more like he'd been hit by one. Though he wasn't sure if that was simply because it fit or if he actually had been before. He'd barely been able to move at first and even now there was a marrow deep ache throughout his entire body that he couldn't seem to escape. The nurse had given him something for his head when she had come in to prop him up, but either it had yet kick in or simply wasn't working. Setting the folder aside he once again picked up the picture and stared at it, as though expecting it to change- or perhaps vanish entirely. Twenty years were simply <i>gone</i>. Somehow even he had trouble stomaching the idea. Two decades worth of memories just gone, and no matter how he tried to reach for something, <i>anything</i> it was like trying to catch air. There was simply nothing there to grab, let alone chase after.<br>
Chewing the inside of his cheek he flipped the picture over once again to look at the names on the back. <i>'Mathias (13) and Justin (8), 1999'</i>. So the age gap was five years- give or take the finer calculations of birthdays, again he turned the picture in his hand and ran a finger over the image as if it would rub off. They looked like they were in hell- or at least he did, the smaller one- who he assumed was Justin- looked like he wanted to be anywhere but under the gazebo that was the photo's backdrop. Somehow it contradicted the words the cou- Mom and Dad had been telling him. However his suspicions were likely unjustified, nothing more than paranoia born from his old roommate watching too much of some show called Law and Order.<p>
Finally looking to the only other person in the room Mat stared quietly at the fellow redhead. He looked about fifteen? Maybe sixteen? It was hard to tell, but somehow he felt he was in the ballpark. They'd met before, only in the company of others mind you, but they'd met all the same. Each time the teen had lingered absently in the background simply staring at him, as though expecting him to break out into dance or song. Mat wasn't sure why, but it was unnerving and comforting at the same time. Swallowing softly he felt his mind hesitating for some reason at the idea of speaking to the other ginger. Pushing the irrationality aside Mat spoke in a voice he was still getting used to.<br>
<b>"You're,"</b> He found himself glancing at the photo then to the boy. <b>"Justin,"</b> For whatever reason he paused before adding hesitantly; <b>"Right?"</b> As if he was getting him mixed up with someone else- which was impossible considering the only faces he was familiar with at this point were those of their 'parents', his doctor and a few of the nurses. He somehow felt like he was trapped in a foreign county- he knew <i>what</i> things were he'd established that much,but he didn't know <i>how</i> they ought to be.
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<div style="font-size: 10; text-align: center;">let me just say <b>OMG THIS TURNED OUT LONG!! SORRY!! DON'T FEEL OBLIGATED TO MATCH</b>, that mattie is wearing <B>TYPICAL PATIENT GARB- LOOK MA NO PANTS!</B> and that there are <b>1277</b> words for <b>JUSTIE / MARZBAR</b>
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