“Sometimes the only way to really forget everything is to go to sleep.”

…

I woke up. I heard a scream from somewhere else. This did not cause me fear, I did not feel unsafe or uneasy. I believed this was normal, although I was unsure.

My room was entirely white, save for the writing. ‘Daisy.’ The word, or possibly name, was largely written on the wall across from my bed in marker. I did not know why. I got out of bed and looked at the wall next to me. There was a plethora of words and sentences written on there. ‘There’s no escape now.’ ‘She’s dead.’ ‘How could it have been you?’ ‘His name is Doctor Simmons.’ The name was familiar to me, but searching for a trace of him in my mind was like searching for a memory from your childhood; all was long forgotten.

I heard a knock at the door. “Come in,” I said. A man walked in. He wore a lab coat over his button up. He wore glasses over his green eyes. He had brown hair. I know this man. I think.

“How are you, Charlie?” The man questioned. I was too fixated on trying to remember to respond. He turned his head to the writing on the wall. He then pointed at ‘His name is Doctor Simmons.’

“Oh, yes. Doctor Simmons.” I remember him now. He had been my doctor for the past nine years. But what was he treating? “I’m well today, how about you?”

“Very well. Now, tell me Charlie, what do you remember?” He asked.

I scoffed, “That’s a very broad statement. Remember about what?” He then looked to the wall across from my bed. “Oh, Daisy?” I searched my mind. I thought of a flower. “Daisies are a flower, aren’t they?”

“Daisy Gallagher.” And then I remembered a woman. A woman I loved. I remembered that she was beautiful, but I could not remember her face. I remembered her laugh, her smile, her tears.

“Oh, yes. Daisy Gallagher. What ever happened to her?” Doctor Simmons had a somber look on his face. “What’s the matter?”

“Think back, Charlie. Remember that night.” I was puzzled and my face must have shown it. “November twelfth. What happened that night Charlie?”

Just then I noticed writing on the wall across from me. ‘I didn’t do it.’ ‘Don’t tell him.’ ‘It wasn’t you.’ And with that, I remembered. I remembered Daisy Gallagher in full. I remembered her beauty, and I remembered her face. I remembered her laugh, her smile, her tears. I remembered how she would complain, and it would drive me crazy. I remembered my temper, my axe, her blood.

“I think it’s time you get leaving, Doctor Simmons.”

“Charlie, what happened that night?”

“Leave now, Doctor Simmons.” I began to raise my voice.

“Charlie, we want to help you. You could help us learn more about brain injuries, think of other people you could help avoid your mistakes!”

“My mistakes? I don’t know what you speak of, Doctor.” I remembered it all now. This was an asylum, but I’m not crazy. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy. Get out of my room!” Doctor Simmons left with a scared look on his face.

It couldn’t have been me. I couldn’t have killed her, I loved her. I’m not insane, I’ve made no mistakes. I decided it was time for bed. Before I went to sleep I scribbled more words on the wall.

…

I woke up. There was manic laughter from another room. It was familiar. I sat up in bed and looked at the wall across from me. I noticed words scribbled across.

‘Daisy.’ I had always liked those flowers. I looked at the sentence next to it.

‘Sometimes the only way to really forget everything is to go to sleep.’