Hunger

Rory: Found

The day after my breakup with Kyle, I wake up to a hefty hangover and my father shaking my shoulders.

"Ugh... What?" I ask, rolling over to face the window. The brightness wallops my head, but it's still better than seeing my dad's face.

"You need to get up. NOW! They found him!" he says, still shaking me.

Even though my brain can't quite grasp the thought, my body luckily remembers the importance of those words and I shoot up in bed.

"What? Where? How? Is he alive?" I ask as I leap from my blankets and start sprinting toward my closet.

My father nods. He isn't smiling, but he does look anxious, which is an improvement over his usual numb, blank stare.

"Is he okay?" I ask from inside the closet as I throw some clothes over my sleep shorts and tank top.

"I don't know, Rory! All I know is they have him! He's alive!" he shouts.

"Then let's go!" I shout back just as loud, toeing on a pair of flip flops, grabbing my keys and racing down the stairs from my loft bedroom two at a time. My father is close behind me. I can hear his heavy feet thumping as we both hurry out of the house and into the muggy May morning.

Seth is alive. Seth is ALIVE. I don't even have to crunch the numbers. I've marked every single birthday. He's thirteen now. I wonder how much he's changed.

I drive, and thankfully Dad doesn't argue. I know I can fly in my Mustang and I have no patience for his speed limit logic today. That's why we end up at the hospital only ten minutes later. I must look like a freak as I run into the ER in my flip flops, unzipped pink jeans and backwards concert t-shirt. Everyone stares at me, and I want to scream, "SETH IS ALIVE!" to everyone in the room. I bang on the glass separating me from a fat man in scrubs sitting at a computer. He glares at me before opening the sliding window.

"My brother! Seth!" I gasp as my father catches up to me, also winded.

"Walsh?" he asks, raising one eyebrow.

"Yes! We're here for Seth Walsh!" I shout.

I feel like jumping out of my skin so I can run to wherever my brother is in this building, but I have no choice but to wait for this fat slow man in scrubs as he shuffles out from behind the desk and comes around to where we're standing.

"There's something you should know before you interact with him," says Scrubs.

"JUST TELL ME WHERE HE IS!" I scream.

"Room ten." Scrubs points down the hallway. "But like I was saying-"

I take off running. I can hear my father's voice shouting my name but I don't care. As soon as I find it I bust my way into Room Ten and see another nurse, a woman this time, typing something into a computer that's affixed to one of those carts with wheels. She's standing next to an examination table. On the table sits a filthy boy with dark hair that's been cut roughly into an uneven, scraggly attempt at a bowl cut. He's wearing blue board shorts, too-big black flipflops and a baggy white shirt stained with sweat and dirt. He's covered in dirt himself, head to toe, and badly sunburned. There are even blisters on his arms and face. But when he looks at me with wide blue eyes, I fall apart and throw my arms around him.

"You're alive!" I cry as tears spill over onto my cheeks.

That's when he pushes me away, hard. So hard I have to grab the door handle to keep from falling on my ass.

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME! WHO THE HELL IS THIS BITCH?!" he screams.

Shocked and speechless, I glance from Seth to the nurse, who's now standing between us with both her arms out to keep us from interacting again.

"It's me, Rory! It's Rory, Seth! Oh God we thought you were dead!" Now I'm sobbing hysterically as Seth just glowers at me. His eyes are empty, like there's not even a person in there anymore. There's no way in hell that this is my sweet little brother. What could have happened to him?

My father, accompanied by Scrubs, pushes against the door I'm leaning against, making me stagger forward a few steps. Seth jumps back against the wall like he's afraid I'll murder him.

"Like I was saying-" gasps Scrubs, "He's experiencing some amnesia. We've told him who he is and that he's going to meet his family today, but jumping on him is NOT a good idea." Scrubs scowls at me. "Which is why you should have stayed and listened to me."

"He doesn't know me?" I ask in a small voice.

Across from me, Seth crosses his arms over his chest and gives me the coldest death glare I've ever seen.

"How long will the amnesia last?" my father asks.

"It's hard to say. He's experiencing severe mania at the moment, and as soon as he's back on a regular cycle of medication for his bipolar disorder, he will likely begin to remember."

"Oh," my father says, looking relieved. "Well that'll be easy."

Scrubs shakes his head. "Not quite. If he gets back onto his meds, there is a chance he will remember. But if this amnesia is caused by something else... like a head injury... it may last a long time. Maybe the rest of his life. We're running tests right now."

Falling from the happiest place I've ever been all the way down to a slight step up from hopeless gives me whiplash, and my head throbs like it's never throbbed before. We have Seth back, and yet we don't. Not at all.

This whole time, my brother has been staring at us with a look that's a mixture of wary and irritated, but he doesn't seem afraid of us. If it wasn't for the scene earlier I'd swear he knows us.

My father tentatively raises a hand and waves. "Hey, buddy. I'm your dad."

Seth just looks at him, shakes his head and shrugs. He turns to stare out the window.

For once, I feel sorry for my father, who I haven't had a relationship with since Seth disappeared. He looks very vulnerable right now, not like the usual cocky politician he pretends to be. It's a breath of fresh air to see actual emotion in his eyes.

I also know exactly how my father feels too. When I properly introduce myself to Seth minutes later, he doesn't just shrug; my little brother looks at me with hot anger. No, rage. Like he hates me. I want to say I'm sorry about the fair, but I have a feeling Scrubs won't approve of me bringing up the past. Besides, if Seth doesn't remember us, why does he hate me so much? It can't just be about me hugging him. It's something much deeper. I can see it in those big blue eyes that were once so innocent.

My father and I look at each other. We don't say it, but I'm sure we're thinking the same thing: what now?