Chapter 2

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Marco awoke to the sound of objects shuffling and the soft humming of a nameless tune. He slowly opened his eyes, surprised to not be blinded by the sun. A small lamp illuminated the room, without giving him the headache he'd expected. He slowly turned his head, looking around the rather plain room he now found himself in. A few feet away, he saw the slender form of a young woman with brown hair just past her shoulder. She turned around and smiled at seeing him awake.

"Good evening. How are you feeling?" she asked with a sweet smile. Marco had to admit, she was quite attractive. He started to sit up and noticed the woman's concerned expression. "Be careful. I found you washed up on the shore."

"I'm alright," Marco answered after a moment. The woman smiled again and pulled up a chair beside his bed.

"That's good. I was worried you might have been hurt." A look of realization crossed her features and Marco almost laughed at how easy it was to read her. "Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Crista."

"Marco." His response was automatic.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Marco." He studied her for a moment, taking notice of the near-apprehension on her face. "If you don't mind my asking… What happened to you?" Marco opened his mouth to answer, but found the words wouldn't come. The memory of what had happened before waking in this room was unreachable. In fact, he couldn't recall much of his past.

"I-uh-I don't know," he mumbled, resting a hand on his head. Sympathy spread itself across Crista's easily-read face.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my place to ask in the first place. Do you want some water?" Marco nodded slowly, more focused on his missing memories than her offer. She could've offered to throw a beehive at him and he probably would've nodded still. Crista stood and quickly left the room, the sound of running water soon following. Marco looked around the room he was in, seeing only a plaque with the name of the island to catch his interest.

"La-crime?" he asked as Crista returned with a glass of water. She glanced at the plaque and smiled as she handed Marco his water.

"It's pronounced La-cree-may. It comes from the ancient language of this island. You can't see it now, but out that window behind you are two mountains that are often described to look like crying eyes. Lacrime, in the ancient language, means 'tears'. There was an old legend that went with it, but there are so many different tellings that there's no way to know what was the original," Crista explained with a chuckle. "This island is a bit out of the way, so we don't often see travelers. People in town are going to be curious about you. If anyone makes you uncomfortable with their questions, please don't take it too personally."

"I wouldn't care if I could remember," Marco answered bluntly, brining a slightly surprised expression to Crista. Her eyes softened again, but she didn't ask about Marco's failing memory. She seemed to, instead, gaze out the window behind him.

"Fratello will be coming by tomorrow."

"Who?"

"Mio fratello, Angelo. He has been my best friend since I was a little girl. He looks after me. Don't worry, though, he's harmless."

"Where will you be?"

"Here. Angelo just wants to check on me. He was here earlier today, after I brought you back from the beach. Angelo worries about me."

"You brought home a man you found unconscious on the beach. I could've been a merciless killer for all you know," Marco said.

"Or for all you know," Crista pointed out with her sweet smile. In spite of himself, Marco laughed and leaned against the headboard of the bed. He set his empty glass on the table beside him and Crista stood slowly. "Are you hungry? I can heat something up for you."

"If it's not much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all. I'll get you some more water while I'm at it."

With that, Crista took the glass and walked out. Marco's eyes followed her and he thought back to what he knew of himself. He could remember his childhood in the South Blue, and he could remember leaving home as a young adult, but little else. Where had he come from? What had happened before he lost consciousness? Was there anyone looking for him?