Your Racoon Wife Got Hit By A Car

Waking Up

When you wake up, it takes a moment for your reality to settle in.

You're in a bed that's somehow too hard and too soft, and it feels as though every part of your body is connected to some type of tube or medical device.

The scent of sickness and antiseptic stings your nose hairs in the way that only a hospital can.

Your only cover from the cold air blowing in is a paper-thin gown and a tiny blanket, leaving your body clammy with cold. More than anything, though, you feel pain, an inexhaustible, throbbing pain in the back of your head.

A face looks over you, one that feels familiar: pink and blue eyes, fuzzy ears, gray hair- you can't place her name, but you know that you know her.

She's also in a hospital gown, but judging by the fact that she's looking over your bed, she's clearly in better shape than you are.

"Thank god, you're finally awake," the racoon girl says, and presses the call light. Her excitement is short-lived; when she sees the lack of recognition in your eyes, the raccoon girl's smile fades into a nervous grimace.

"The doctor said that you might have trouble remembering, but... You remember me, right?"

The sensation that you do in fact know her becomes stronger, and for a brief moment your mind is flooded by your sensory memories: the sound of wedding bells, the taste of amaretto-soaked wedding cake, the feeling of her lips against your own. This isn't just a raccoon girl- this is your wife... And her name is...

"Right?" She asks, and her expression turns grim.

A Familiar Place

Irreversible damage to long-term memory recall.

It's easy to recall the moment the doctor read the words of your chart, even though you were still somewhat disoriented at the time. The memory is burned into your mind, a sentence condemning you to inheriting a life that you will likely never remember.

Now, though, you're back home and have more immediate matters to attend to.

"Come on, dork, you're supposed to be helping me with my physical therapy," Piper teases from the bed. "The nurse said that I needed to build up my core, and I can't do that if your head's in the clouds!"

When you don't immediately respond, Piper flops onto her side, looking up at you with a brow furrowed in sympathetic frustration.

The raccoon girl is wearing a simple outfit today: charcoal gray athletic shorts and a cropped white and blue tank top. The contrast makes the blue in her eyes pop, and it's easy to see how someone could fall in love with her.

Her arms are lithe but well-muscled, even after weeks of not working out, and you can see a thin, protective layer of soft fat over her abs. Piper's thighs are similarly soft, but are a risk to admire: her stumps are still bandaged and are mostly healed, but she's still a bit insecure. You remember that the doctors say it will still be a month or so before she's ready to start with prosthetics.

"Memory stuff still bugging you?" Piper asks, and doesn't wait for a response. "Why don't we go out for a date? We haven't had the chance since the crash, and I bet somewhere familiar will help stir up something in there!"

Piper taps you on the forehead and smiles, showing off a small fang. "In fact, I know just the place!"

Prosthetic Fitting

"Good morning!"

The voice is familiar, and inordinately cheery, but when you don't immediately respond it changes tone.

"Come on nerd, ya gotta wake up," the voice teases, and you feel a kiss on your nose followed by an impish bite that forces you awake.

The morning sun is blinding, but you're granted temporary reprieve by a familiar face mere inches from your own.

Piper's normally well-styled gray hair is a wreck, and diffuses the sunlight into a silhouetted halo around her. The lighting is too poor to really see her eyes, but this close you're able to see the sharpness of her canines in her smug grin.

All your wife is wearing is an oversized, faded tee and a pair of pink argyle panties that really flatter her hips while she pins you down.

Even from here, it's easy to see that Piper's tail is bushed in agitation.

When she sees the confusion on her face, she pins her ears back with a scowl. "I know your memory's fucked, but surely you remember that today is my prosthetic fitting, right?"

Before you can respond, she crawls to the bedside and lifts herself into her wheelchair with practiced ease and a casual athleticism that she wears with pride.

"I can't believe you slept through all of those alarms," she says as she maneuvers her chair to the closet. "Come on and get up, or we're going to be late!"

A Disappointing Outing

The crash was ruled to be the other driver's fault, in the end, but it doesn't change the fact that you were the one driving. If you had just stopped a little longer before turning left, if you had been just a bit more patient, things wouldn't have turned out like this.

But they did.

And now, even in spite of your head injury, the sight of Piper's face as she watches her students play tells you that you came out of it easy.

It's the first time she's felt comfortable going to a school function since the crash, and she's dressed well for it: a tasteful pink and black houndstooth skirt, a white blouse, and her pink bomber jacket. She's not practiced enough with her prosthetics to wear them full time, so you have been entrusted with the task of pushing her wheelchair.

"Katie's the best midfielder in the league yaknow; she's got real talent," Piper explains, but there's a rawness in her throat. "Look- look at her run, love, there's no way they're going to catch her! She's even faster than... Than I was."

She reaches up to your arm and squeezes your wrist for comfort.

"Let's head out," Piper says, the excitement drained from her voice. "I don't wanna have to fight the crowd."

When you arrive home, Piper's expression is still grim.

"I thought I was ready for it, but I guess not," she says with a heavy sigh. "So... what now?"