Scarlett

The sunlight snuck through my window curtain as it reached the peak of dawn. The smell of freshly brewed coffee slipped through the crack of my door, making my stomach feel fluttering with the wings of butterflies. Today was the day I was going to become a mother. My last meal as pregnant woman. David had the counter filled with warm blueberry crêpes, eggs, bacon and fruit. All of my favorites. I was too excited to eat. The hospital bag was packed and ready for takeoff. We rushed to the car almost slipping in the snow.

"Don't waste a fall sweetie. We will get there and hold Scarlett before we can even blink." David said catching me.

"I know dear, but I am so tired of being pregnant I feel like I am going to pop!" I chuckled.

David ignited the engine, and our playlist began to play, the melodies designed to release serotonin in our brains. We wanted to make sure Scarlett was just as excited to meet us as we are her. As we began driving the snow began to fall heavily. It was clear I started to doubt our safety to the hospital, but I was determined to hold my daughter today. The look on David's face showed no emotion. Was he excited to be a father, or was he having doubts? Everything approached us so quickly; it almost seems as though we had no time to process the actual change that was to take place in our lives.

"We are going to be amazing parents." I assured him.

"The best." He added.

Our song from our high school days began to play on cue as we looked at each other and smiled. We took it as a wink from the universe confirming our positive affirmation. The snow began to fall more quickly than we intended today. A stop sign appeared out of nowhere. David reached for the breaks, but the car was too heavy to stop in time. We slid right through the stop sign simultaneously hearing the horn of an eighteen-wheeler truck skidding right beside us. I woke up in the hospital bed, still pregnant. I made eye contact with David and asked him what had just happened.

"We slid through a stop sign, when I cut the wheel to avoid a giant truck headed right for us you hit your head on the window and fainted." He explained

"Don't worry, you and the baby are safe now." David continued.

My eyes filled with tears. How could I almost lose my baby the day I am supposed to officially meet her? I could not remember the incident. It was best I kept it out of my head and welcome the birth of baby Scarlett. Hours flew by and still no baby, they needed to increase the Pitocin. My head began to throb with pain, so much so that I didn't realize the contractions were getting stronger. My nurse came to check on me.

"Are you ready to have a baby?" She eagerly asked. She proceeded to get her gloves and call the rest of the nurses and my doctor along with them.

"Okay we are going to continue with a practice push.

I gathered all of my breath and proceeded to push with all my strength.

"SHE'S HERE!" The nurse shouted. With one push she was out in the world.

"Wow, usually the firstborn is the hardest!" My doctor said surprised. Little did he know, she technically isn't my firstborn. Hazel was my first daughter David and I had when we were only 16. At five months old, she fell asleep one evening and did not awaken. A decade has passed, yet it continues to haunt us.

Holding Scarlett for the first time did not feel real. Her skin was warm against mine. Then she felt cold. Everything felt cold. I looked at her face, she was blue.

"David!" I began to cry. No one was around to hear me scream.

"Someone help me!" I cried again. I took one last look at Scarlett; she had no skin just bones. Then she crumbled into ashes right before my eyes.

"Somebody! Anybody, help me please, I'm begging you!" The lights began to flicker, and I could hear my heart pounding in my chest.

"David, please where are you?!" I sobbed once more.

The lights turned on; my hands were tied against the bed. The surrounding air began to heat up, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. Finally, I heard a voice.

"Charlotte! wake up! Its doctor Locust."

My doctor's name is Dr.Mick and my name is not Charlotte. Who is this man, and who is he talking to? I thought to myself.

"You are admitted to Brixton Hospital." He proceeded.

"Who are you talking to? My name is not Charlotte, and where is my baby Scarlett and David?"

Doctor Locust turned to face the other gentleman in the room. He didn't resemble a doctor; rather than scrubs, he was in a suit.

"She is finally remembering the day it happened." The man in the suit stated

"What are you talking about?" My anger was rising at that moment.

The two men looked at each other once more. Then he began to speak.

"Charlotte, my name is Doctor Harper. I have been your psychiatrist for 3 years. We began Hypnotherapy two months ago, which you agreed." He said handing me a contract with my supposed signature.

"The mission is to help you remember the day it all happened. We have been making progress. However, it is the moment you recall the stop sign that you begin to regress. Today we made it as far as the hospital. Instead, you changed the story, as well as who you are." Harper continued.

"You aren't making any sense!" I stammered. The two doctors looked at each other once more.

"Your name is Charlotte Hanson. You are a resident of Brixton Mental Hospital and have been for 3 consecutive years. Today is the anniversary of David and Scarlett's death. You two were on your way to the hospital to give birth during one of the biggest snowstorms in history. During your travels, David's vehicle slid on ice while he was stepping on the breaks forcing you to drive through the stop sign. You collided with an eighteen-wheeler truck where David died on sight of the accident. The ambulance was able to transport you and Scarlett to the hospital just ten minutes down the road. Unfortunately, you lost too much blood. Scarlett died inside of you before they could take her out. When you became conscious again, your mother was in the room and told you everything that happened. Your mind could not process the news. After a few days at home, you attempted suicide by taking David's Police firearm and shooting yourself, leaving you that large scar on the side of your head."

My face felt pale. I slowly reached for the scar the man was referring to. He was right. The moment my finger touched the healed stitches it all started coming back to me. Flashes of memories began to play like short clips from a movie. Only this wasn't a movie, it was my reality.