"Well, the doctor said there's some pretty severe brain trauma. Severe enough to cause amnesia," Rey said flatly to the man sitting across from him.
"Apparently, I was out cold for almost five months. There's no guarantee my memory will ever fully recover, either." Rey let out a long sigh before continuing, "I can't remember any of the details. All I know is that when I woke up in the hospital, my dad was the only one there."
"Hmm. But you remember me, right? Rey?" his companion asked tentatively.
"You're... Kris, right?" Rey answered.
Six months had passed since the accident. Rey had been in horrific shape when he first arrived at the hospital. Shards from his helmet visor had nearly blinded him, his left lower leg was shattered, and a jagged scar ran down his left chest—a permanent souvenir from the wreckage of his bike. But of all his injuries, the head trauma was the worst. If the doctors hadn't acted as fast as they did, Rey's name would probably be etched on a headstone by now.
Kris pulled a chair closer to Rey's computer desk, spun it around, and sat straddling it with his arms crossed over the backrest.
"So, how's the leg doing?" Kris asked.
"Getting better, I guess. But I'm stuck with these crutches until I can walk normally again." Rey tried to lean back against his headboard. He took a shallow breath. "But this amnesia... it's driving me crazy. I don't remember my school days, my friends—I don't even know where my school is. I only found out the name of it because of the uniforms tucked away in my closet. The harder I try to remember, the more my head throbs." He pressed his palm against his forehead, as if he could manually fix the 'error' in his brain.
"Hey, take it easy. Don't force it. These things take time. Anyway, sorry I'm only just visiting now. Being a freshman isn't exactly a walk in the park—the assignments are already piling up, man," the bespectacled guy complained. "What about your phone? Maybe that could help jog your memory?"
"Smashed. Totaled. Even the SIM card is probably dead by now. Haha." Rey tried to laugh, but it sounded hollow.
"Yeah, and your social media isn't much help either. You're like a ghost online. One photo on Instagram, no Facebook... I don't even know if you had anything else," Kris said, nudging his glasses up.
"Even if I did, I wouldn't remember the password," Rey replied gloomily.
"I'm curious, though. Out of all the things you've forgotten, you can still speak perfectly fine. Why doesn't language just disappear with amnesia? And clothes—you still know which are the shirts and which are the pants, and how to put them on without mixing them up. How does that work?" Kris stared at him, genuinely puzzled.
"Are you... seriously asking me that right now?" Rey frowned, looking at him in disbelief.
An awkward silence filled the room for a beat before they both burst into laughter. A few moments later, Kris stood up to leave, asking Rey to pass on his regards to his uncle.
***
Kris was the son of Rey's late mother's older brother—his cousin. Unlike Rey, who usually went for a more casual, effortless look, Kris was charismatic and polished. His hair was always styled in a sharp undercut, and his glasses gave him an air of authority that he somehow carried quite well.
"Meow, meow!"
"Hey, Georgie! Have you been waiting long? You must be starving, poor thing~"
His favorite cat greeted Kris the moment he stepped into his dorm. Even though it was Sunday, after feeding Georgie, Kris immediately started getting ready for his shift as a barista at a coffee shop near campus.
PING!
WhatsApp Group: Psychology Theory 101
I have a meeting tomorrow morning, so class is canceled. Please form groups of up to 4 people for the following assignment: Outline the Existential-Humanistic Theory, including its history, the schools of thought that influenced it, and real-life applications. Present it as a paper. We will discuss it in the next session. — The Professor
"Damn it! These assignments just keep coming!" Kris grumbled, staring at his phone screen. He had a piece of bread hanging out of his mouth—something he'd picked up on the way back from Rey's—while his left hand frantically shook out a sock before putting it on.
Kris stood up. "Georgie! Your master's going to work now so we can afford to eat. Guard the house, okay? Don't make a mess!" He wagged his finger back and forth as if he were talking to a person.
"Meow!" Georgie chirped enthusiastically, as if giving his word.
***
Meanwhile, Rey reached for the crutches leaning against the edge of his bed and slowly made his way to the bookshelf near his desk. He remembered the doctor's advice: try to remember the small things—anything at all—photos, handwriting, or objects that hold memories. The problem was, Rey wasn't the sentimental type. He had always been too lazy to even take a selfie.
His hand traced the spines of the books. Not a single one sparked a memory—just school textbooks and thriller novels.
The computer. Maybe there's something in there, he thought. With considerable effort, he lowered himself into the chair and hit the power button.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Rey, you still awake?" His father's voice drifted from behind the door.
Rey stood up with his crutches and hobbled over to open it.
"You're home, Dad?"
His father was holding a plate and a bag of food. "I brought you dinner. Eat up, then take your medicine, okay?"
"Thanks, Dad."
It was already 9:00 PM. Despite his scrambled memory, Rey knew his father rarely closed the shop this late. His father said his goodnights and told him to get some rest.
After closing the door, Rey returned to the computer. The screen was fully lit now. He moved the cursor to the icon labeled Rey's-PC and clicked.
Of course. A password. He let out a frustrated huff.
There was no hint. He tried entering his birthdate. Incorrect.