Me (Sydney), I think

Ba-Boom.

I can hear thunder.

Ba-Boom.

Where's the lighting, I think calmly.

Ba-Boom.

I can't think straight.

Ba-Boom.

I can't see, I realize.

Ba-Boom.

Is that thunder?

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Sydney!"

My head hurts. I open my eyes and see...I can't see. I close them again. The darkness is unsettling.

"Sydney!" Somebody's saying that. Who's saying that? And what's Sydney?

"Sydney, wake up--please?"

Oh. Sydney. It's a name. I wonder who it belongs to.

"Sydney!"

I feel something shaking me. I try to push it away, but I can't. "Stop it," I murmur.

"Oh, Sydney, you're awake! I thought for sure you could've--" There's someone hugging me. Who's hugging me?

And did this person call me Sydney? My name isn't Sydney. It's--

What's my name?

Maybe I am Sydney. "Who are you?" I ask. My voice sounds feeble, weak.

The person is surprised. "You don't recognize my voice?"

I don't. I don't recognize anything. "Who are you?" I repeat.

"Oh, Sydney, I'm--I'm your mother."

"No you're not."

"Of course I am. Don't you remember me?"

Light. I can see. And my eyes are open again. I find I am lying down on something, in a white room full of fancy-looking tools and monitors. A woman is standing in front of me, her hair golden brown, her face lined with age but still young. She is thin, and was probably very pretty about ten or twenty years ago.

This is the woman who says she is my mother. "No," I say. "I don't."

I can see a tear drifting down her cheek.