Frozen Memories

Amnesia

“No, my name is Wilhelmina Frost. You know this-”

“No-no, Wilhelmina.” Max  said. “Jane Doe is not a real name. They only give it to unidentified females found with no name. And before you revel in your pity party, most Jane Does are known to be dead.”

“But why Jane Doe-”

“Who cares?” Max Powers said, cutting me off. “There are more important things that you should be talking about right now, don’t you think?” 

I do not follow her logic, as I find my question very important. Then she starts to overwhelm me with questions.

“What do you remember about being found? So-you don’t have any recollections? Do you know how-”

“I do not remember anything.” I cut her off. Not meaning to be rude, but being found in a torturous state was not the most welcoming subject.

    She seemed to have caught the hint of how uncomfortable I was concerning the subject so she lightened up on. For only a moment before she spoke again.

“So ...nothing at all?”

Realizing that she would not let up, I silently sized her up, wondering whether I could fully trust her. “Truth?”  I asked, initiating the beginnings of my story. I had to admit that I would feel huge relief in being able to find confidence in someone aside Ms. Groves.

    “Um-yah.” Max answered with a look, saying I should have already known the answer to my own question.

    “I need to know that I can trust you.” T said. “I don’t know who did this to me.” I said, thinking further on it. “I need to be cautious.”

“I may seem a mastermind manipulator but keep in mind, I’m still just a teenager, Mina Frost.”

Keeping in mind how I felt about my own age and the disbelief of how old-or more so how young I was ...”I’m not so sure.” I said distantly.

When I looked up, she was staring at me. “You’re a paranoid one.” A grin crept up her features. “I like it.” She then placed her hand over her chest and looked me straight in the eye, her right hand in the air. “I swear to you, Mina Frost, that the words you speak will be confidential and that I will not use any info given to me by you in any way to harm you.” She dropped her hand. “Are we good?” 

Considering the fact that she just made an oath, I felt that I had no choice at this point in regards to telling her what I knew. “Yes.” I answered.

“Alright then.” She smiled. She sat on my bed, crossed her legs and gave me a concentrated stare. “Spill.”

“I-cannot recall this year, nor any year remotely prior.” I finally said aloud. “This era-I-”

“What do you mean?” She asked. I grabbed her attention again.

“This-time.” I repeated with frustration, not knowing how to fully explain what I was meaning to say. “I do not know-any of this. I just recently learned to use this cellular device.” I admitted, shaking my head. “These clothes-the transportation vehicles…the buildings-the computers-even the people.” I sighed. “It’s just all so new to me. So overwhelming. I’ve-” So flustered, I couldn’t even finish my sentence.

“So-like, you really don’t remember anything.”

I shrugged. “I only know what everyone else is telling me-about me.”

“Okay, okay well-you say you’re-” Max Powers paused, looking out of the door to our room, before getting up from my bed to shut it. She returned to the bed, sitting down again. “You say you’re not familiar with this time period.” I nodded in response. “Well it’s obvious that you are familiar with some kind of intelligence.” She said. “You’re not dumb-you speak better than most adults I’ve met.” She pointed out. “You-have an accent which explains why you talk so weird.” Odd that she pointed this out, because no one else that I came into contact ever mentioned this. “You’re probably from Europe or something.” She added.

I took in the noticeable observations, impressed with her take on the state of things. “I have not thought that thoroughly into it.” I admitted. “You are very well skilled in this.”

She watched me. “Do-you know any slang?”

“What-is a slang?” I asked, confused.

“Wow-” she laughed. “Okay, so what year does stand out to you, exactly?”

I shifted my gaze away from her. “I have an impeccably hard time answering that question. The answer that my mind reverts too, throws even myself off.” I confessed. “Especially, when considering my youth.”

“Okay-so what do you mean?” Max Powers asked. “What year did your mind adjust too when you woke up?”

I couldn’t answer right away, as I had never spoke aloud, concerning that subject before now. And even so, I did not have a particular year as much of a feeling of unfamiliarity of every advanced thing around me. Still, I chuckled harshly,knowing that I did have an answer to her question. Regardless of how indirect of an answer it was.

“I cannot specify an exact year. But I fear I’m centuries away from where my comforts lie.” I finally said.

“Cen-wait centuries?” Max Powers said after a long moment of silence. 

She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief; I half knew that this was what would come of this part of the conversation. I’d have the same reaction if it were me in the opposing position. I mean, when it all came down to the matter of it all-comparing visual fact to my own beliefs...it all equaled out to sound quite ridiculous. 

“You do understand why this is hard for me to believe right?” She asked. “I mean even with your apparent amnesia-if I’m not mistaken amnesia is the loss and lack of retaining new memories or loss of the old.” She started to shake her head in what seemed disbelief. “But your amnesia is like-I don’t know-it’s almost like you have a mix of source, retrograde and hysterical amnesia all balled into one.”

“What does that mean?” I  asked. I vaguely knew of this term, amnesia but the sub terms that she mentioned along with it was something completely new to me.

“Well, hysterical dissociative amnesia is pretty rare but it’s when a person has forgotten identity and their past, which explains why you don’t really know who you are. Or at least it’s a possibility.” She explained. “Retrograde amnesia is why you’re probably unable to remember anything that happened before, well-whatever happened to you in the first place. It’s probably the reason why you can’t remember your past. And lastly, the source amnesia-this is probably one of the most important ones, assuming that’s one of the ones plaguing your mind, that is.” She said.

“And why would that one be one of the most important?” I avy part in the role of why mind  played a very heavy part in the role of why mind worked the way it did.

“Well, source amnesia is pretty tricky.”  Max Powers said. “With source amnesia you can remember certain information but not how or where you learned that it. So, with that said-there’s a reason why you speak so intelligent-why in some ways you even have a slight americanized language barrier.” She added. “Most of importantly, it may be the reason why you think that you’re hundreds of years away from where you belong.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“Someone could have made you believe that you were from a different time?”

“But how? Why?” That just didn’t seem to make sense to me.

“Hypnosis, and as to why. Who knows?” She said.

“Everything you’ve said so far has made sense to me except this.” I  countered. “I cannot wrap my head around the fact that someone would go through the trouble of hypnotizing me into thinking that I am from another era.”

“But you can wrap your head around the fact that you-a girl of maaybe seventeen is over what one hundred years old?”

 I could sense the sarcasm in her voice as she said this; and to be honest, her logic sounded way more reasonable than mine at the moment. At this point, I had no counter for her reply.

“Look, I’m assuming that you were tortured, right?”

To her question, I lifted the sleeve of my shirt up to show the crewd engraving of my name. “Proof is in my skin.” I said.

“Ouch.” She took my arm. “That’s nasty.”

“How else do you think I found out my name?” I asked.

“Well, gotta say-that is a nasty wake up call.” She muttered. “I take it the last name isn’t far behind.” She said.

I lifted my hair to show her where my surname was located. Though, for some reason, a part of me doubted that Frost was my true last name.

“This one is not bad-not bad at all.” She said. She looked at my arm again. “I’ve seen better tattoos than this but-”

“Tattoos?”

“Oh, right-” She scoffed. “You’re from the stone age. Tattoos are-permanent markings that people get for reasons ranging from sentimentality to stupidity.”

“Hm-” I was unsure of the definition, but gestured in understanding, nevertheless in order to continue conversation. “Do you have any?”

“I have quite a few, though, I guess I’m not what you’d call, legally, of age.” She shrugged. “Some I don’t even recall getting.” She added, her gaze suddenly distant.

“And your tattoos-are they of sentimentality or stupidity?” I asked.

She hesitated for only a moment before jeering. “A bit of both, I guess. I assume the ones that were already there are sentimental. Or….at least that’s what I’d like to think.” She seemed to resonate on that answer before giving it.

It was in that moment that I realized that there were things about Max Powers that held more mystery than I previously thought. It almost seemed as though she had a bout of amnesia as well. However, judging by her strong character I knew that I could not just ask her about it outright. So, I thought I’d go the long way around.

“How do you know so much about amnesia?” I asked her.

By this time her mind seemed to have wandered off into whatever thought had captured her attention before she returned her lavender gaze to me again.

“I like to study and read about the mind in my spare time.” she simply answered. ”Knowing the mind is a hobby of mine.” She sighed. “If you’re wondering why your doctor didn’t tell you any of  this, it’s probably because they didn’t want to overwhelm you. Besides they probably assumed that you wouldn’t know much of anything about all of this memory loss stuff; and that it would have only went in one ear and out of the other.”

    No, to be honest, I wasn’t thinking about any of that until she brought it up. It made sense, however, when she did explain it, so I really didn’t dwell on it long before my mind fell back on my roommate and her past. I decided to, then ask the next logical question that I could think of.

“Have you ever had amnesia, Max Powers?”

Max was in her bed now, pencil in hand, looking at her textbook. “I can’t remember some of these tattoos and I’m interested in the way the mind works.” She looked up at me before returning to her work. “What do you think?”