I release the bar above my head and land on the floor, rolling my shoulders I take a deep breath and contemplate my next exercise. I glance around the gym and see around twenty other people, the majority male while physiotherapists flitter between each patient. It’s encouraged for other patients to interact with each other during their exercises, as it gives them motivation, encouragement, safety if the weights fall on you and keep some people coming back to the gym to complete their rehabilitation.

But I’m by myself, my own fault of course. I threw a ten-kilogram weight at someone when they grew frustrated at me for generally being slow when they ask me questions, they were patient at first but eventually, I was just in the way.

Now it’s eight months later from the time I woke up, I spent two months in a medically induced coma so a total of ten months since my injuries. Although I’ve mostly healed, my body has grown weaker from not training during those two months sleeping and even more so from at least four months taking it easy. I shake my head to try and rid myself of these thoughts, it’s Thursday so today is shoulders and back.

‘Rowing.’ I think to myself, and making the changes to the adjustable tower, I take a sip of water. Like a machine I work until my limbs are sore and ache, I seem to have a hard time gaining muscle and it requires me to constantly push myself harder every time.

Quickly finishing every exercise I have left I take a shower here and leave, I hate the atmosphere of that place and the people, especially the people. Pepping up their voices when they talk to each other feigning interest, the eyes as you’re evaluated like a piece of meat in front of the physiotherapists. Or is it the fact that I’ve acknowledged and conformed to it just to make everything easier on myself, to get this over quickly and not raise a fuss.

I take a deep breath in and exhale it slowly, I push these thoughts out of my mind and just focus on observing the street. Playing the game of ‘Who might you be?’ and trudging along to the market. I take the list out of my pocket and begin buying all the ingredients required for tonight's dinner. I stop by a game store and contemplate buying a game for my younger brother who is fifteen. I spend a few minutes looking at the advertisements, there seemed to be a new game coming out, it has a really flashy intro for the developer and title but then the music goes quiet,

I watch two hands covered in thick white gloves move around as though he’s in water, the character slowly climbs its way up a ladder, and peaking over the edge is an azure sun. Blinded by the light the scene changes to a speeder ship mid-race, crowds of people are there cheering on their favorite pilot, the camera goes under a speeder and the scene changes again. Now they’re racing around the asteroid belt shooting in a death race. In the explosion of one crashing into the belt the camera rapidly zooms out from a mech firing its cannon, it isn’t a standard bi-pedal with two arms mech. It looks like a AA gun with four legs and it’s dishing out the hurt to a platoon of infantry space troopers. Then an explosion rising up in the background blew everything away leaving the name of the game again.

“Holy shit,” I mutter at the screen, it’s been a while since I’ve been gobsmacked. He will love it, he’s a proper gamer and would love the realism taken to the next level. I place an order for it and head home.

It’s just my little brother and me living together in a two-bedroom apartment, it has a fully functional kitchen but that also doubles as the dining room, which happens to also be the living room. It’s a little small but I call it compact and everything is where I need it to be. Truthfully we don’t live together but he enjoys spending more time with me than he does at our parents’ house, it’s also closer to his school. I just can’t work out if they’re doing it for my benefit of not being alone, his for being closer to school or theirs to get us out their hair.

                                                                                        ⚶

I sigh as I walk back in, I can hear the TV on and the sounds of gunfire, I don’t know why he likes these warry games. You would think about what happened to me he wouldn’t play it at my house but, I guess that’s what I like about him. He doesn’t give a fuck and will just treat me as his brother regardless of what’s happened to me. “Hey, Dom.” I collapse into the sofa next to him.

“Hey ‘Ric.” He doesn’t glance away from the screen and proceeds to get killed in the game, he releases a disappointed sigh and respawns. “Gimme some Tac advice.” When I first got back and he said that I had no clue what he was on about, but I quickly picked up that he wanted me to guide him into winning.

“Left… Climb that ladder… Hide in the corner and listen.” We both listened for footsteps and we did hear a couple, after confirming it wasn’t teammates by the map I gave my advice. “Flash, turn the corner slowly and aim at the legs, let the recoil bring you up.” He did exactly that, and we were both brought to the respawn menu. This time we both sighed.

“It would’ave worked if the game was more realistic, and people gave a shit about their avatars and not throwing them around like fuckin’ slabs of meat.” He whined and I nodded.

“Which reminds me, I bought you a game. They said it’ll be here and installed within the week.” I explained, he looks at me with a skeptical eye trying to work out what kind of game would need to be installed and not just bought.

“No, no, no, no. NO!” He shouts, tossing his controller to the side and placing his hands to his face in sadness.

“What?” I stand up again and take the bag of groceries with me to the kitchen counter and begin unpacking them.

“Look Eric I love you to bits but you’ve practically placed a fuckin’ fifteen-pound steak in front of a wolf but chained with the wolf to the fuckin’ fence!” He cries out exasperated, it must be a good game if he’s acting like that. “I can’t play it, it’s age-restricted.”

“So?” I scoff at him like that’s stopped him before.

“Look you muscle fuck, it’s able to tell your age since you have to physically step into a fuckin’ pod, so it will know I’m underage.” He talked with his hands and made chopping motions as he said each word slowly at the end.

“Oh.” I finally understood it.

“Dick.” He complains and respawns in the game. It looks like I’ll have to call them tomorrow to cancel the order and I thought I’d get out of Tac advice.

                                                                                         ⚶

“Hello this is Wolfe Reality, my name is Riley. How can I help you?” The help desk operator answered when I called the company.

“Hi I recently bought a game Vigil Until Dawn, it was for my younger brother but I didn’t realize that he literally couldn’t play it. So I would like to cancel my order.” I summarize my situation quickly.

“We can do that sir, however, you won’t be refunded for the one-month subscription you paid for when you got the device, the uninstallation is free and can be done whenever you require it.” Riley smoothly explains what the deal is to me.

“But I can be refunded for the capsule itself?” I throw a question.

“Yes, we can clean it and have it reused easily sir.” He answers and I nod to myself.

“Uhh, there’s no point wasting a month's subscription, I might as well play it until that ends,” I say to the operator.

“Exactly sir, I’ve got one myself at home and it is amazing, have a good morning and I’ll record your number to call back when your subscription runs out, bye!” He cheerily hung up. I take my kit and I pack my bag to go to the gym, it's Friday morning and Dominic has gone to school, then going home to see mum and dad. Little fucking spy.

A few sharp knocks bring me to the door, I peer through the peephole and see a woman. Her hat was blocking her face but I could tell by the figure. She’s wearing a white long-sleeved shirt, a checkered white and black tie with a big black overcoat.

Oh and stab proof vest that said ‘Police’ on it.

As she was going to rap my door again with her fist, I throw it open. Not that I’ve done anything that would warrant the police knocking on my door, still. She looks rather pissed off at me. We stand there for a few seconds before she releases a venomous tone into the air, which sounds like the words

“Well? Aren’t you going to let me in?” I flinch a bit at the sound of it and make way. She makes her way to the kitchen and starts inspecting the place, “How long have you been back then?” She interrogates me, I ignore her for now and look at her face. She took her cap off when as she walked through the door so I can clearly see her face now and... Of course, all the pretty ones treat you like shit. She has hazel eyes, black hair, caramel skin, and red lips. She talks in a clear British accent of southern England but her heredity is not of the United Kingdom, or it is depending who you argue with.

“Well?!” She slightly yells out with irritation written into the tone of her voice, oh god is she someone I was dating before my injuries? Please don’t be that awkward, please, please, please, please just be a friend.

I rub my face close the door and flick on the kettle, taking two cups out the cupboard I place them on the kitchen side. One is my mug a ceramic grey, the other is a sourpuss pink one. “Take a seat.” I sigh and she walks over there in a huff taking off her jacket and placing it on her legs with her hat atop that while she fiddles with it.

“Why haven’t you talked to me, Eric? I thought you were going to be at my promotion ceremony, my birthday. Have I done anything wrong?” Her voice breaks and cracks a little, she’s almost crying now, she gives the same look my brother gives when I told him I didn’t know him. My brother has the wish that I would at least remember him because we were so close.

“I got injured... In combat.” I let the words slowly flow out my mouth, every time I say my situation it doesn’t make it easier. It makes it more real. She stands up her jacket and hat falling onto the floor. Her tears become more apparent now which is making me want to tear up.

“W-why… Why didn’t you tell me?” She begins using her sleeve to try and wipe them away, I ignore the drinks for now and hug her. “That doesn’t mean you get to ignore me!” She cries out, she probably has waited for ages for me to message her, all those feelings turning bitterness, regret, disparity, and breaking her self confidence. “You promised! You promised that… That you wouldn’t…” Her sobs heave into my chest. I hear the door unlocking and my brother Dominic peers in, I shrug in response and he slowly closes the door behind him leaving me alone with a crying woman I don’t know.

Please don’t arrest me, please don’t arrest me… I would have preferred an actual legal problem over a personal vendetta.

I hear the electric kettle click off when it’s finished boiling, but now is not the time for that. “How long have you been home since getting injured?” Her voice is almost steady now, slightly trembling, I pat her head noticing she’s a full head height shorter than me, maybe a bit more.

I hold her hands, look into her eyes, and guide her to sit down on the sofa with me. I’m going to tell her as clearly and as cleanly possible. “For two months I was in a coma.” Her eyes went wide and she bit her lip to stop herself from probably hitting me, probably trying to get the rest of the story out of me. “When I woke up I was told I have a form of PTSD, that’s suppressing all my memories. But now they’re thinking its brain damage, I can’t remember anything beyond waking up eight months ago, no dreams, no deja vu. Not anything, I’m sorry.” I couldn’t look at her at the last part, I don’t know what kind of relationship the previous Eric had with her, but that’s long gone now.

“You don’t remember me?” I shook my head at her, her voice is breaking by the end of those four words. “Anything?” She sounded desperate and I pull her into another hug.

“Look, I am not the Eric you knew before. I look like him, but I’m not. I understand if you never want to see me again, to forget about me like I forgot you and that’s okay.” I whisper into her ear and she breaks away from me.

“That’s not happening!” She yells at my face holding my cheeks. Her eyes are red and puffy, tears flowing down her face. I don’t know what I did but she slaps me. “Get that defeatist look off your face!” I probably smirked at her unknowingly.

“You know, don’t you usually have to be at work by a certain time?” I try and think of a sly way to get her out my apartment, she looks at her watch and smirks back.

“I’m doing my morning rounds, just happened to be checking up on a friend.” She starts putting her jacket back on and places her hat under her arm. “I’ll be back.” She opens the door and almost slams it behind her.

I think to myself, for a while trying to piece together bits and pieces of the storm that just came through my apartment. Shit, I don’t even know her name.