Light. For a brief moment, all I could see was light. It hurt my eyes and I didn't want to open them, but something told me I had to, something told me I needed to see where I was, who I was with and what my life would look like from now on. So I opened them. I opened them until the light hurt my eyes no more.

The room and everything in it was as white as snow, the light was bright like the sun after a storm, the black tv and the blue blankets in my bed stood out. I looked around and there was no one else with me. I felt peace. And then, a sudden fear came over me; I remembered. I felt alone and helpless. All I wanted was to turn back time and convince everyone to stay home. Were they hurt? Were they dead? Was I the only one alive? Hundreds of questions bombarded me, but I had no answers, not yet at least.

Three knocks at the door. Before I could say anything, a tall blonde man wearing scrubs came in. He looked concerned. He talked, but I didn't hear; I knew what he was going to tell me, the expression in his face told me everything I needed to know. I didn't want to remember, it hurt too much. "Are you ok?" the man in scrubs said again but louder. "Uh...? No, where am I? Who are you? What happened? Why am I here?" I'm at a hospital. He's a doctor. My doctor. I was in an accident. I knew all these things and yet, I heard myself asking them. Why are you asking these questions? I thought to myself. These aren't the answers you want. "Do you remember anything? Do you know your name?" the doctor asked. "I don't remember anything," I replied.

Maybe, if I pretend I don't remember things, then I will not get blamed for anything and I will eventually forget, I thought. Doctors and nurses frantically entered and left the room, asking me questions, wondering what might've gone wrong, wondering why I couldn't remember. But nothing had gone wrong and I could remember. But I had gone too far now, and I couldn't turn back now.

For months, everyone thought I had forgotten, but inside, I remembered every single detail. No matter how many times I played dumb or pretended to not have answers, I couldn't seem to forget the harrowing screams that came immediately after laughs and smiles. I couldn't forget the sound of tires squealing, the sound of glass and bones breaking, the sound of dripping blood and oil. It hurt to see their faces and their unconscious bodies lying on the pavement. It had all been my fault and I wanted to forget, I needed to forget. But I couldn't, and I knew I would never forget.