ALEX

"Mrs. Clarkson, over here!" Ava's call broke the tense atmosphere, drawing my attention to Zoe's frantic family. They rushed over, bombarding Ava with a flurry of questions, their anxiety palpable.

"Where's Zoe? What happened? How is she? How did you guys get here? Who brought her?" Zoe's mother fired off the questions in rapid succession, her voice trembling with worry.

"Mrs. Clarkson, calm down, please. I hope she's going to be okay. She's in the OR. The doctors are taking care of her; she'll be fine. Please, take a seat," Ava reassured them, her voice calm and steady despite the chaos surrounding us.

"There was a school shooting, Mrs. Clarkson. As we were about to run, we met with the shooter. He shot one of our friends right in front of us, and then he pointed the gun at Alex right after. Zoe couldn't bear seeing another friend die, so she stepped in and took the bullet for Alex. Then, Alex got her up as the cops arrested the shooter. We brought her out to the road and got a car and took her to the hospital. We still have no idea how she is; the doctors haven't said anything yet," Ava recounted, summarizing the harrowing events.

"Who's Alex here?" Zoe's sister inquired, her gaze shifting to me as I stepped forward. Her scrutiny felt heavy, weighted with accusation. "It's all your fault she's in there, isn't it? In fact, it's all your fault. You're her friends; you all shouldn't have let her do that," she accused, her finger pointing accusingly at us.

"I know, I'm sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I should've known, but I didn't. I really wish it was me in there instead. I never wanted this to happen to her," I confessed, my voice laden with guilt and remorse. But before I could continue, the arrival of the doctor diverted everyone's attention.

As the nurse called for the patient's family and close friend, I immediately tried to get up, but Yash's hand on my shoulder stopped me. "What are you doing? Let me go," I protested, attempting to shake off his grip.

"Are you dumb, Alex? Her parents are here, and they're already mad at you, especially her sister. Let the girls go first," Yash reasoned, and reluctantly, I sank back into my seat, feeling anxious.

They were huddled up there for what felt like an eternity. I watched as Ava and the other girls emerged, tears streaming down their faces but with a glimmer of hope. Zoe's mom sat down and started crying, and I couldn't hold back any longer. I got up and approached Ava, desperation evident in my voice. "How is she? Is she okay?" I pleaded.

Ava didn't respond immediately, just continued crying. "For heaven's sake, tell me what happened, Ava, please!" I demanded, my patience wearing thin.

"Alex, she, she—" Ava struggled to find the words, her voice choked with emotion.

"She what?" I pressed, my heart pounding in my chest.

"She lost her memory, Alex. The bullet hit her brain and caused her to lose her memory," Ava finally revealed, her words hitting me like a ton of bricks.

"You're lying! No, she can't lose her memory, not after everything. No, no, no!" I exclaimed, feeling a surge of disbelief and denial.

I stormed off to see her, unable to comprehend what I had just heard. Opening the door, I saw Zoe lying there on the bed, completely unaware of who I was. My knees felt weak, and I staggered forward, overcome with a wave of helplessness and despair.

I approached the doctor standing nearby, desperation evident in my voice. "Doctor? How is she?" I inquired, trying to keep my emotions in check.

"And who are you?" the doctor asked, his tone professional yet tinged with curiosity.

"I'm her friend, Alex,Doctor," I replied, feeling a knot form in my throat as the gravity of the situation sank in. "Nice to meet you, Alex. Well, since you guys arrived just in time, we were able to save her. If you had been any later, she might not have made it. Thank goodness," the doctor said, his words a mix of relief and concern. "Given the severity of her gunshot wound, and the wound on her head, she's lucky to be alive."

"Your quick thinking to apply pressure to the wound and administer CPR was crucial. Thanks to your actions, we were able to save her in the nick of time."

 "No doctor it's all thanks to you she's alive I'm truly grateful," I say,

"Alex," he begins, his voice laced with sympathy, "Zoe has sustained significant soft tissue damage to her shoulder from the bullet wound." My heart sinks at his words, the gravity of the situation settling heavily upon me like a suffocating blanket. Soft tissue damage. The mere thought sends a shiver down my spine, the image of Zoe in pain flashing before my eyes.

"The bullet tore through muscles, tendons, and blood vessels," the doctor continues, his tone grave. "It's caused extensive trauma, and the consequences could be severe." His words hit me like a physical blow, each one carrying the weight of an uncertain future.

I swallow hard, trying to process the enormity of what he's telling me. Zoe, my Zoe, lying there with her body torn apart by violence. The thought is almost too much to bear, a knot of fear and helplessness tightening in my chest.

"And," the doctor adds, his voice softening with empathy, "she also sustained a major concussion from the fall." The words hit me like a punch to the gut, the image of Zoe's head striking the floor flashing before my eyes. A concussion. The mere thought sends a surge of panic coursing through me, threatening to overwhelm me with despair.

But amidst the fear and uncertainty, there's a glimmer of hope. "With our help," the doctor reassures me, his voice a lifeline in the darkness, "Zoe will have the best possible chance of recovery."

I feel a wave of disbelief wash over me as the doctor starts again 'But after she regains consciousness from her coma, she won't be able to remember anything that had happened in the past,' the doctor explains gently, his voice a steady anchor amidst the storm of emotions raging within me. 'I would appreciate it if you and the others could help her remember the past events, which would be a help to us in her recovery. But her coma might last a week or a month since her fall had been hard.'"

His words hang heavy in the air, a weighty reminder of the challenges that lie ahead. Zoe not knowing who I am,My zoe not knowing,—it's a thought too painful to bear, a nightmare I never imagined I'd have to face.

I feel like I don't exist anymore, lost in the shadow of Zoe's uncertain future. How can I possibly help her remember when I can't even comprehend the magnitude of what's been lost?

Somehow, I manage to find my voice, though it feels weak and insignificant against the enormity of the doctor's revelation. "Of course," I reply, my words tinged with uncertainty. "We'll do whatever it takes to help Zoe remember. We'll be there for her every step of the way."

The doctor nods in understanding, his expression filled with empathy. "I know it won't be easy," he says softly, "but with your support, Zoe has the best chance of recovery."

"We had performed surgery to repair the damage to her shoulder," he continues, his voice steady and reassuring, "and we'll be closely monitoring her concussion for any signs of complications." His words wash over me like a soothing balm, calming the storm of emotions raging within me.

With each word, with each reassurance, I feel a flicker of hope ignite within me. Zoe will be okay. With the skilled care of the medical team and the unwavering support of her loved ones, she'll have the chance to heal, to reclaim her strength, and yes, to regain her memories.