Willow

Somewhere, out in the bitter depths of winter, arose a figure carved in the landscape like willowy, vine charcoal. She leaned towards the wind instead of away, letting it bite at her skin until every inch of her was windburnt and red. She was so thin her collar bone protruded out from her shoulders like spiked armour and her ribs bowed against her thin clothes. And even more curious, after a quick assessment, she realized she had no shoes or socks adorning her feet. No coat to brace against the frigid temperatures. And a lesser known iota, that you couldn’t gather from simply observing this lonely figure, she had no clue who she was.

She grasped at the snow suddenly, carving her bitten fingernails into the icy ground, trying to reach dirt. Maybe if she found dirt she would find herself.

Alas, no such luck occurred. Even her name escaped her. How can a person be anything without a name? Surely she was someone. Someone's daughter. Someone's sister. Someone's friend. She could only hope that someone out there was looking for her or she might as well resign herself to her bitter, ugly fate now.

"Hun? It's too cold for a young lady to be out in the snow. Dear me! Without shoes too!" An older woman croaked. The woman was bundled in a pink, too-big parka that almost skimmed the cold ground, threatening to drag powdered snow in piles at the hem.

Was this the woman who knew her? Was this the woman who had the answers she so desperately needed?

"What's your name young lady?" The young woman's heart sank to her freezing toes. She was still no-one and nobody's.

"I don't remember."

"You must have hit your head hard. Let me take a look at your melon."

"My what?" She jerked away from the woman's hands that were aiming for her neck. She was a head shorter than the no named woman but was far steadier.

"Your head, hun. But by the swelling up there it might as well be a melon."

At that, the young woman placed wiry fingers to her skull. Right to the left of her forehead, sneaking beneath her dark hairline, was a bloody, bruised mess that left a raging bump. The cold must have shielded her from the pain. The only pain she could feel was the continued tingling in her limbs as each fell numb.

"Let's get you inside."

"Where?" She looked out at the static of white. Multicolored dots filled her vision, too faint to know what color they were as each swam in her vision.

Then, without warning, her head started to pound. Her mind reeled, showing images of wires and tubes and grey walls spotted with mold. Was it a memory? Or a warning?

A cold sweat covered her skin and she dry heaved into the snow.

"It's okay honey. You must be dehydrated too. I live just up the hill here. I would carry you but I'm older than I look. Can you walk?" She nodded weakly back to the old lady.

"And for now, you need a temporary name. I can't keep going around saying ‘hey you’ now can I? Plus I’m sure you’ll remember soon enough."

The no named girl still didn't trust herself to speak so she bobbed her head again.

"How about Willow. Like the tree? I think it's fitting." She smiled warmly. Warmer than the harsh winter surrounding them.

Willow bobbed her head again. But only enough to be noticeable but to not make her head spin. She was finding her balance by holding onto the woman's arms.

"My name is Grace Shirley. I guess if we're doing introductions. I grew up by the creek in Alabama. You've probably never heard of the town so I won't bother with all that. Married my husband Carl and he moved us up to the mountains were its always so dang cold." Grace shivered for effect.

Jealousy nipped at Willow’s chest. Jealousy of this woman and her past. Willow tried in vain to dig up something, anything, about herself. But every time she searched the depths of her mind it was only static and flashes of images that left her discombobulated more than anything.

Grace rattled on. "I got no kids. But we do have a cat. Was a stray and she just never left. Probably because it's too dang cold to leave." She kept repeating too dang cold until it lost its meaning.

By the time they arrived at the top of the hill, both women were spent. In sight, blurred by snow, was a cozy cabin made from orange toned wood and looked like whoever had built it poured so much love into each log and every pane of glass. It looked like a proper home.

“This is where you live?” Willow croaked. Even her voice was foreign to her own ears. Like it didn’t belong to her either.

“Pretty isn’t it? It’s the only reason I put up with the snow and the fact that the nearest grocery store is thirty miles south.”

Grace helped Willow up creaky wooden steps, simply hovering, leaving dusted snowprints in their wake.

“And to be so isolated,” Willow added absentmindedly.

“Sure. Sometimes it can get lonely especially since Carl works so much. But its rewarding to find peace in it too.” Grace shuffled around, poking the fireplace with as much grace as her name and blew on the small sparks already lit from earlier. After tending to the fire she gave Willow some dry, warm clothes to change into.

“I’ll get started on something for you to eat, but you’ll freeze to death if you stay in them wet clothes.”

In return she got mildew scented clothes with holes in one sleeve. Willow was grateful for the hospitality eithier way.

“Here is some soup missy. Don’t drink it too fast.” Grace handed her a steaming cup of warm soup. Willow couldn’t describe the flavor only that it was warm and filled her stomach and that was all she cared about.

“So tell me what you remember,child. Maybe we can figure it out together.”

“Okay. Sure.” Willow paused. “Wires. Grey walls. That’s it.” It was almost shameful how little she remembered.

“That’s a place to start. Maybe it’s a hospital of some sort?”

“That would make sense.” But nothing was jogging her memory.

“You know what? Why don’t we take things one step at a time hm? Maybe your mind is protecting you. I think that bump is a nasty thing but I don’t think that is what caused all of this.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think you’ll be okay no matter what happens.” Grace’s smile was still warm, but it was almost a radiating heat. A loud bang came from outside the cabin.

“In here!” A man’s voice shouted.

“Is Carl home?” Willow asked. But Grace shook her head.

“No matter what happens, you’ll be okay.” She repeated.

“Willow!” Another voice screamed. A woman this time.

Willow’s chest tightened. Who else was calling her by her new name? Who else would know she was here?

A man in a red jumpsuit followed by a woman in a white parka were bursting through the door.

“We found her! She’s here!” The new stranger enveloped Willow in a hug.

“Never do that again. Never ever.” This must be the woman who knows her. Who knows about her.

“I’m sorry.” She managed. She leaned into the hug despite not knowing who this woman was.

“We’ll take you to the chopper. You’ll be okay, miss.” The man in red said. He was wearing rescue gear.

“What’s going on?” She was shivering. The sweater she wore wasn’t warming her up anymore.

“Willow. You’re safe.”

“Is that my real name?” Now that someone else was saying it with knowing maybe she could believe it.

“You don’t remember?” The woman’s brown eyes widened.

“No. I woke up in the snow and Grace, she took me in. Gave me soup.” Was all she managed.

“Grace? Who is that?”

“The woman. She must be here somewhere.”

“Willow, this cabin is abandoned. No one lives here.”

She glanced around. The fire was out. The room was dark and cold. Cobwebs clung to every possible crevice and a layer of dust sat on the table where she had sat her drink. The mug that had held steaming soup was filled with dirty water and what looked like sediments from dirt or sand.

That caused Willow to heave again.

“There was soup. There was a woman named Grace. She had a cat. She was from Alabama.” She whispered after nothing came back up.

“No one is here.”

“There were two sets of footprints.” Willow insisted.

“We only saw one set. It’s just you. I promise.” She said kindly. “Now let's get you back to the hospital. You’re going to be just fine.”

“Hospital?”

“You need medical attention and we need to continue your treatment.”

“Who are you?” She rasped.

“I’m Casey?” She paused, waiting for realization that never came.

“Still nothing? Pete, will you help her up?” She turned to the man beside her. “We will get that head of yours checked out too. Possible temporary amnesia. You’ve been missing for thirty six hours from the facility and I’m sure the hypothermia is no help.”

“How did I get here?” She was almost afraid to ask.

"You left the psychiatric facility yesterday morning. The staff believes you climbed the perimeter fence and ran into the woods."

All the words jumbled into broken pieces. The floor tilted beneath her. Whether at the multiple realizations before her, her memory resurfacing, or the fact that she had never been so cold and numb in all her days, she collapsed. And she was nothing and nobody again.