FEATURED WRITER HARITHA NUKALA'S 'A BLANK CANVAS'
The incessant beeping from the instruments around her woke her up. She opened her eyes with difficulty and tried to remember where she was as she looked around with blurry vision. Her head felt as if it had taken a beating from a hammer. The rhythmic beep of a machine was the first thing that registered. Then came the sterile white, the stale air, and the suffocating silence. Panic clawed at Ava's throat as she tried to speak, but her mouth felt like sandpaper. A fuzzy image swam into view – a kind-faced nurse with worried blue eyes. "Ms. Thorne? Can you hear me?" Ava managed a weak croak, hoping that was her name. The nurse explained that she was in a car accident where she sustained severe brain injury. Ava tried to comprehend what the nurse was telling her, while her senses were overwhelmed with an excess of information. She was petrified, as she tried to remember her name, her face, anything that would give her some inkling. Seeing her terror, the nurse brought her a
