I WOKE, PART 9

I cried. I was in the ICU, waiting for my old body to die. I tried to calm myself down by organizing my thoughts since the accident that left me trapped in the body of Allison Allen. It was the end of Spring Break, and the next day I was due back in class for the first time as Allison.

But first it looked like I would have to say goodbye to any hope of returning to my old form. I tried to list all the accomplishments I had made in the last week, to try and cheer myself up. For example, I was able now to walk without a cane, although I still was having trouble with heels.

The doctors had also removed my bandages that had covered the burns I had received when they had applied shock paddles to Allison’s heart, trapping my soul inside. The worst part of that experience was being told that the marks were fading so well , I would be able to wear a bikini this summer.

I was still having a lot of trouble even looking at this body, and the idea of exposing that much of its flesh was just beyond me. The other main accomplishment of the week was being able to access more of Allison’s memory.

I had recovered the memory of her first meeting with her best friends, Nicky and Lisa. They had actually met in grade 6, when they had gone to school in skirts and halter tops, only to have to spend the whole recess with their backs against the wall, as boys kept trying to pull on the strings, when they weren’t trying to lift up the skirts.

They bonded over a common low opinion of boys, and remained best friends ever since. Better still, I didn’t seem to be losing any of my memories of my life as Mark, at least as far as I could tell.

I had a lot of gaps, but nothing that struck me as important was missing, and I had struggled with my memory even when I was still in my body, so baring any real significant loss, I was hopeful that I would be able to survive having her memory as well as my own.

However, I still was not able to remember her attack, which worried me greatly as apparently, her attacker’s lawyer was trying to get the case heard quickly, thinking that there was an advantage to be had by doing so.

Worse, the press had gotten a hold of the story, and even though they couldn’t by law reveal Allison’s identity or that of my attacker as they were both underage, they were able to talk about me, or at least my old life. Not only that, but despite a publication ban in the mainstream media, Allison’s main rival at school was sharing fictionalized details of what happened on Facebook and Twitter, so both my new family and my old one were struggling to retain their dignity and privacy.

As I wrote, I looked at my old body, and cried again. As long as “Mark” was still alive, there was hope I could somehow make my way back to myself, but they had taken my body off the respirator early this morning, and now it was just a matter of time. I spent some more time with my mother and my former ex, and wondered if I would ever see them again.

I took the opportunity to ask them, “Why was Mark so sad?“ I told them, “I feel a strong connection to him, and I really want to know everything.“ But my mom just patted me on the head, and said “Maybe it doesn’t matter now. I will think about it, I promise.”

Finally, I had to go, as Allison’s mom came to take her daughter home, to get ready for her return to school the next day. I spent the rest of the night reviewing my schoolwork, and being totally nervous. The next morning, Allison’s mom helped me pick out a good outfit, and off I went. Nicky and Lisa met me and the door, complimented me on the outfit, and soon it was time for classes.

I felt like everyone was staring at me. Fortunately, I had Nicky and Lisa with me the whole day, which was the only way it was bearable at all. I really had trouble with the bathroom idea, and wished I could go into a staff bathroom instead.

Worse, I felt terrible anxiety about being in any place with only one exit. I also really became nervous anytime a boy came too close to me, even when they were clearly just trying to welcome me back and give me their support.

But somehow, I got through the day with only one major incident. Silvia, who was the girl who was responsible for the negativity being spread about Allison on the web, decided to try and confront us, and said I was a faker, and that I had set up “poor Bill,” who was being railroaded.

I was very upset, but Nicky and Lisa got me away from her. When I got home, I had a very strange feeling, I felt dizzy, weak, and had a terrible feeling about my old body. I phoned the hospital trying to find out if Mark had passed, and lucked into talking to a nurse who recognized Allison’s voice, and she told me, “it’s the strangest thing, we expected him to pass within hours of taking him off life support, but , somehow, he started breathing on his own.”

“We don’t know why, how long it will last, or if he will ever regain consciousness.” I told Allison’s mom, and she held me close, and eventually I went to sleep. The rest of the week I could feel myself falling more and more out of control.

I still could not look at Allison’s body, I always picked the heaviest , bulkiest outfits to wear, I really started to freak out if a boy came near me, and I started to have nightmares about Allison’s attack, although I couldn’t remember the details when I was awake.

Allison’s mom must have picked up the clues, and booked me into see a therapist. Soon, I was seeing someone two times a week. So my routine became set for a while, with school, homework, and therapy. But no sooner had I started to get used to that schedule when the judge decided the case against my attacker should go ahead, and I suddenly had a new worry.

I thought it was ironic that I was now having nightmares about being attacked as Allison, but couldn’t access the memory when I was awake. Those memories were the key to getting some justice for Allison, wherever she was, and I was determined to make sure that happened.

I had work to do.