A/N: Hi people. I know it's been a while, but I've decided to pick up fanfiction again. This story idea has been in my head since I first started reading the series.

Please tell me if you like the story idea, if it's original enough to your taste, basic inpute, positive or negative, PLEASE. Please read and review!!!!!!

Disclaimer: I love Meg Cabot. Please don't hate me for totally jocking off your characters.

They claimed it was amnesia.

Yet, somehow, in my concussed mind, I knew that there was something else. There had to be something else. Something huge must have landed me in the hospital that fateful day. Something so awful, in fact, that my doctors could not, or would not, explain. The unsettling thing was waking up with most all personal memories missing, all identity gone; it felt as though my life had passed without me knowing.

I could only remember things Id learned in school, not any personal memories, like, the first time I rode my bike. Or who I was exactly. I couldn't even remember those I loved the most. Did I have friends? Who were they? Most every memory dear and precious to me was lost. I suppose there was a plus. I mean, my brain wasn't fastidious in choosing which memories to forget.

Two months in a hospital wing, recalling how to walk. It took me twenty minutes to walk one hundred feet. Going through all those tests and scans. Learning how to hold a fork. Back to basics required isolation from everyone but my doctors. Even my mother wasn't allowed near me. Not that I minded. How could I, when I couldn't even remember what I looked like, let alone my mother? Mirrors were prohibited from my room due to the fact that they would "unsettle the patient's already precarious mind," quote unquote my psychiatrist. They even had the bathroom mirrors removed.

Each night Id be alone in my bed, the white walls surrounding me, enclosing me. I would hear and see things but never know what they truly were. Flashes of my past would linger in my mind, and then fade tauntingly. I was left in the whispering darkness trying to recollect, screaming with frustration at the lost lifeline to my past.

They'd look at me, the miracle, in wonder, each time the accident was mentioned. How did you survive the accident? Good question. Somehow, I did, despite a damaged spine that healed in a single defying month. I was a walking miracle, they said. I should have been crippled, a vegetable, or-most likely-, dead. The doctors had said I suffered a major concussion, a snapped vertebra, torn ligaments, ruined tissue, and so much more damage on my entire body, things the specialists would clear their throats at and write something down on a clipboard, making them avoiding the topic entirely. I suppose it was fine. I was so sure I would learn eventually.

What was the accident? Id inquire. But no one would tell me. Oh no. It was too awful for my recuperating mind to handle.

Somehow, I knew something big was missing from my life. Not the tissues missing out of my backside, nor the new scars. Scars fade eventually, and so would my memories if I never retrieved them.

Hopefully, everything would gradually come back to me.

After those two grueling months of isolation, rehab, relearning, and pain, I was finally permitted to see my mother. It took awhile, but in the back of my mind, I remembered her. Did she always have blue eyes and shadows under her eyes?

For the first time, my mom told me, she was taking care of me.

I didn't get it. I didn't think I ever would.

No, really--reviews are the most inspirational thing. =]