“Time does not bring relief; you all have lied“ -Edna St. Vincent Millay

Nine Months.

Nine months in a coma, the doctor had said.

The doctor was a small woman, attractive and surprisingly young, she was dark-skinned, with curly brunette hair that cascaded around her shoulders, she had a small button nose and dark green eyes, there was hesitancy in her eyes, a distant pain. Despite this she was extremely professional, asking me yes or no questions.

She didn't give me her name, she did not smile at all.

The nurses were a shock to me, all extremely attractive, good-looking, and well-cut. Like models or actors in a movie, men and women alike, they all gawked at me, leering at me as if I were a ghost.

————————

The doctor and her squabble of nurses had long since left the room.

I was left alone to my own thoughts.

It was a beautiful room. Dark wood paneling above navy blue wainscoting with an intricate plaster of Paris ceiling and a golden chandelier.

Around me, stood several carts, machines, and equipment.

In my hand, I still held the note I had written to show the doctor.

“What happened to my Parents?”

The doctor had gone white as a sheet when she read it. She merely looked at me and asked me a question.

Do you know what year it is now, sir?

“March 2020.” I had written down.

She turned around, whispered to her associates, and abruptly left the room.

——————————————————————

No one had returned that day, save a nurse who entered, placed a new IV bag of whatever cocktail of **** they were giving me, turned down the sheets, and wordlessly administered a sponge bath.

I was left alone for the night and slept uncomfortably with the constant beeping and blood pressure cuff going off every few hours, and the catheter occasionally causing a sharp pinching deep in my bladder.

—————————————

Morning came, the light of dawn streaming in through sand-colored drapes from a window in front of me.

I heard a sharp and loud rap on the door before it opened, giving way to a very small bearded man in a gray suit, with even grayer hair, he hobbled in with a cane in his left hand and a large smile before he spoke.

“Gutentag, Good morning Mein Freund.”

I nodded back with a smile.

“I see you still are unable to speak, I hoped to have a conversation with you, my name is Doctor Smith.” He said with a strong Austrian accent.

“I'm sure you’ve been told by now what happened to you?”

No, I nodded back.

“No? No one came to tell you? Inkompetente Narren. As usual, they leave the dirty work to me.” He said with a slight laugh.

“I should tell you, you caused quite a stir around here yesterday, the whole place is simply crazy with the news of your awakening!”

I merely smiled at him.

“And, how are you? How are you doing? The doctors tell me you had quite a fit when you woke up, practically tore out your speiseröhre!”

I nodded meekly at him.

“Healing aye? Well, every day you will be getting better und better.

“Now on to business.” He said with a strong sniff.

“Firstly, you’ve been in a koma for just over nine months, you know this? Yes, the year is now 2028.”

I furrowed my brow at him, I felt my heart begin to race, my head begin to feel heavy, and I clenched my fists.

Not nine months lost to me.

Nine years.

“No, no it couldn't be. That's not right.” I spoke for the first time, my voice came out deeper, and coarser, and my throat burned from my speech.

The doctor simply placed his hand on my arm and looked me in the eye.

“Breath my son, breathe, it is alright. I'm sure you have many questions, I hope I can answer them all but in the meantime just breathe.”

“Where are my parents? Are they okay? Where is my family?”

The doctor grimaced at my words.

“All in time my son, first you must rest, please, I insist. I must speak to my colleagues.”

With that, he rose from his seat beside me and slowly limped out, the sound of his cane echoing on the hardwood floor, as he closed the door behind him.”

Despite the pain. I cried myself to sleep.

———————————————

Doctor Smith sighed as he walked down the hallway to the nurse's station.

Of course, his name wasn't really Smith, his grandfather had changed it from Schmidt after the war.

He pondered the young man alone in the room. He had always wanted to meet him, but never like this.

He had heard, despite public opinion, stories about the King of Moronica, that he was a hard, cruel man, manipulative, and conniving, but, the king was a treasured man, deeply loved by all his subjects, who had appointed him.

However, the man the good Doctor had just met was anything but, he seemed broken, helpless, and lost, in his eyes, the Doctor saw no dishonesty, no hatred you would find in a man that infamous, he just saw loss and regret.

In fact, he reminded Doctor Smith of his own son, his son was a pilot with the United States Airforce, soon heading for promotion, he had very deep pride in his son, and he began to reminisce about the last time he had visited his son and daughter-in-law and two young grandchildren in America.

However, there were more pressing matters, he needed to confirm his theory with Doctor Jodha.

————————————————————

“Retrograde amnesia are you certain?” Dr. Jodha said to Dr. Smith.

“The symptoms are almost entirely there!” insisted Dr. Smith.

“Don’t you remember the news stories about his crash 9 years ago? That crash was almost identical to the one that happened nine months ago!” He cried.

“You know his Royal Highness better than any of us! Didn't he ever tell you of the crash?”

“King Jonathan is a very reserved man, Dr. Smith, he has never spoken of his personal life with me.”

“Still! If you doubt my diagnosis then go in and speak to him instead of hiding out here like a mouse!”

“Ridiculous! I am not hiding I am working!”

“Working! Nonsense, I was the one who had to tell His Highness the truth, he nearly broke down and cried like a little boy in front of me!”

“Retrograde amnesia.” Dr. Jodha repeated to herself.

“That would mean his mind is stuck in 2019, the last nine years gone!”

“Yes, I know how amnesia works Jodha, I’m a damned psychologist in case you didn't remember!”

“If you are so smart Smith then tell me what happens if he doesn't regain his memory, what happens then? To us! To this country!” She cried.

Doctor Smith merely nodded solemnly.

“It is a difficult situation, what I fear for more is his mind, however. He is extremely fragile, anything might send him over the edge, we must handle this delicately.”

“I’ll inform their royal highnesses, his wives, the queens, will want to hear of this.”

“I couldn't let them meet our royal patient, not now, news of his station, this country, may very well give him a heart attack.”

“He needs time to adjust.” Dr. Jodha agreed.

“For all our sakes.”