“To lose ones memories is like losing a part of oneself. Sometimes people welcome the loss of memories, but eventually they will yearn for those memories, they can’t remember anymore. With your memories, you’ll feel whole, like one with yourself. Should you be missing memories, you’ll feel empty, you will feel loss. It will change you, it will alter you being you. No, to lose ones memories is not always a good thing.”

Pain, al It could remember was pain. There was nothing beyond the pain that raked through It’s body. It could feel almost every bone, muscle and nerve in agony of this pain. It consumed all other things, such as rational thoughts and movements. It didn’t know where It was, but It certainly was in pain. How It came to be in such pain, It did not know. How to get out of the pain, It did not know.

It could feel some pipe going into It’s mouth, and It noticed that although It caused pain, it also helped relieve it a bit. If It had not been in such pain, It would have noticed that It was lying on a soft bed, but It was more aware of the pain, than anything else. It could also hear some strange noises. Some beeping, some rattling sounds. What this could be, It did not know, but It didn’t care enough to find out.

It felt something cool on a part of It’s body. It remembered: the forehead. It was glad that It could still think of something beyond the pain, but was quickly losing against said pain.

Soft sounds could be heard. It tried to make sense of those sounds and remembered that it were words. It was spoken to. Or so it seemed. The words were soothing for the painfilled mind of It. Just before slipping in the pain void realm of sleep, nearing unconsiousness, It could hear some words which made It’s heart leap with joy a bit.

“Yes, this boy might make it through the night. Hopefully he will later be able to tell us more.”

‘I’m not an It any more, I’m a boy, I’m a he.’ And with that thought, He drifted off into some much needed sleep, void of all the pain still raking through his body.