The Fight Against Better Living Industries

**Carley Anne's POV**

I wasn't in the room when it happened but I could hear Midnight crying for me.
"He doesn't remember me," she runs to me. "He doesn't remember anything."
Her tears stream down her face.
"How do you know?" My heart drops.
"He doesn't know who I am, he doesn't know who he is, he doesn't know where he is."
I walk over to his room.
Thank god we found this place, it was an abandoned hospital that we found just in time. It took us about an hour to find it and it amazes me that Frank made it so long. He was losing a lot of blood from his stomach and his head.
There were a few people still here with medical experience, they were people just like us. They took us in and helped Frank.
They took out the bullet and stitched his stomach and head wound.
With the limited supplies they had, they fixed him up really good. He lost a lot of blood so they gave him as much as he needed to help him survive.
Even after all their help.
We were still scared for him.
He was unconscious for a couple hours which we expected, but when it got to 3 days unconscious, we started to worry.
Midnight stayed right by his side, she never slept or ate, she took care of him. She wanted to be the first face that he saw when he woke up.
Only 4 days later...
And he doesn't even remember her.
I knock on his door and walk in.
Frank is sitting up on his bed.
I smile at him. And he smiles back.
"Is she okay?" Frank asks me. He still cares for her even though he doesn't remember who she is.
I nod.
"What did I say to offend her?"
"Nothing, she's fine. She's just happy that you're okay."
"Who are you?" He asks me, I can imagine the devastation that Midnight felt when he asked her that, I could feel my heart breaking.
"My name is Carley and I'm here to help you get better."
He sits and thinks about this for a while.
He looks like Frank and sounds like Frank but he's slower now. He doesn't process stuff as fast as he used to.
"Call me if you need anything." I say as I walk out of the room, trying hard not to cry in front of him.
"Wait."
I swallow back the lump in my throat, turn around to face him, and smile. "Yes?"
"Can you tell me who I am?" He looks desperately at me.
"I will, but tonight you need to rest."
I close the door behind me.
And I let the tears fall down my cheeks.

Notes