Chapter 1 - Awakening

A girl wakes up in an interrogation room, no memory of what happened to her, and a strange urge to run...

          I tried to focus, but my sight blurred underneath the bright fluorescent lights. The cold metal of the stainless steel table sat before me, pressing hard into my stomach. The chair I was sitting in was bolted to the concrete floor, stained with what looked like blood. I shuddered, and once again opened my eyes, trying to focus.
          “Kate?” The man spoke again. Just make him stop speaking. It hurts my brain, the noise. I gasped and shut my eyes tight again. The blinding light from the desk lamp tore through my mind, like glass through someone’s palm. It sat on the table, glaring at me, the only light cutting through the dimness of the room.
          The men were speaking again. I don’t remember why. Were they cops? Maybe. I think I’m in an interrogation room. The walls are a dark color. Black, maybe. Or blue. I can’t tell. This light is in my eyes.
          Why won't they move the light?

          “Kate, we need you to cooperate. What do you remember?” I forced myself to open my eyes and brave the light. My eyes were narrowed, and I think the other man took the hint, because he moved the light further from my eyes, so it was focused on the desk and not me. That must be the ‘good cop’. 

          I was able to focus again, and scan the room. The walls were a dark gray, like storm clouds. I could hear the thunder in my mind. Or was that my stomach? I don’t remember the last time I ate. 

          Remember? What could I remember? I remember darkness, yes. Lots of that. And... pain? Fluff? There’s not much in my memory besides the static of the abyss, and the pain of the light, and a face.

Only one face, though I’m sure I knew more than one person.

His face kept showing up, haunting me. Did I do something wrong to him? Is he dead? Is that why I’m being interrogated by the police?

          But I don’t remember who he is. 

          What was his name?

          I looked at the cop, blankly. He had a fluffy beard, like an old British man. I imagined him with a monocle, and almost smiled.

Almost.

          I looked down at my arms, and was vaguely aware of pain. There were cuts along my arms, and I was filthy. There was dirt underneath my nails, and a faint greenish tint to my skin.

          Or was that just the desk light?

“Bill, take her out of the room. We need to know what happened to her, and it’s obvious she’s not in a state of mind to help us figure that out.” Monocle man looked at me strangely, and I felt a glimmer of recognition.

          The glimmer disappeared, and my mind was filled with static once again.

          What was that smell? Like frog dissection.

What was that chemical called again?

Oh, yes. Formaldehyde. Why could I smell it? Were we at a school? Were we at a morgue?

          The other cop led me from the room, firmly grabbing hold of my arm, as if i’d run away at a moment’s chance.

          Where did he think I would go?

          He led me into a bright hallway, and I gasped and closed my eyes. Too much light. How did I even get into that room anyway?

We’re in a different room. I force myself to open my eyes. There’s softer lighting here, not as sharp, not as painful. I’m relieved.

The floor is plush. I look down. Soft blue carpet is caressing my bare feet.

          Why are my feet bare? And why are they so grimy?

          Dried mud covered by toes, and rough scratches coated the skin. I felt something around my shoulders. I looked up.

          A woman was grabbing onto my shoulders, looking into my eyes. 

Her face was shrouded with wrinkles, worry lines, spots. She had deep bags underneath her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping very well. Her eyes were bloodshot and the rims were red, her hair disheveled. She was wearing her night clothes.

          “Kate?” She spoke softly. I cocked my head at her, and turned away. I took a step back from her hands.

          The contact unnerved me.

I didn’t like the feeling. I needed to get away from all these people. What were they calling me? Kate. Am I Kate? I don’t know. I walk away from the people, and the woman starts to cry. Why is she crying? I don’t know her. Does she know me?

          I walked to the door, but I heard people calling my name from the other side of the room, beckoning me over to them. Promising me gifts. Treating me like a lost child.

I could tell that I wasn't a child, far from it. Maybe 17 or 18 years old. A little younger maybe. But I was most certainly lost.

          I took a step out of the building through the door. I could hear them rushing to get to me, but I couldn’t tell what they wanted. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be near these people any longer.

          I took off.

Running through the streets, hearing more noise than I could ever remember. I stopped. I looked around, but I saw the people following me. Were they doctors? Cops? I couldn't remember the difference, but I ran.

          My feet slapped against the wet pavement, and I registered that it was raining. I paused, and looked up, feeling the cool droplets washing away the filth and grime that was inevitably coating my face and hair.

          But I didn’t stop for long.

          I ran again, faster than I knew I was capable. Then again, I have no idea what I’m capable of right now. I found an opening between two buildings. It was dark, but the dark was a welcome sight. It seemed familiar, calming. I entered the alley way, and I felt immediately at peace.

I watched my pursuers rush past the opening, calling my name. I still had no clue who they were.

I realized with a smile that I was a blank slate. No memories, no mistakes, no identity. Just a face in the back of my mind, calling me.

I grinned. No, I wasn’t Kate anymore. She was gone, lost with my memories of the past. I was nobody, and nobody was me. Kate was forever lost, and the people who loved her would get over that. 

I turned, and walked down to the end of the alleyway. A brick wall blocked my path, but I easily scaled it. There were many missing bricks, acting as foot and handholds. 

I was able to form more coherent thoughts. Where was I going to go? What would I do with my freedom? I frowned. 

I jumped off of the wall. I was in a dead end alleyway. Brick walls on any side of me. I yawned. Had I slept before the questioning? 

          I lay on the concrete of the alleyway, listening to the sounds of traffic.

I grabbed a newspaper and folded it like a pillow, laying, curled up, at the end of an alleyway, hoping that they wouldn’t find me, falling asleep to the sounds of raindrops and footsteps.

          Footsteps?

          I slept.

Author's Note

I would really appreciate feedback ^^ It doesn't all have to be positive, but I would rather it all be constructive. Should I continue this story?

Reviews

[TLK]

You say you are a 14 year old girl. For someone with plenty of time left for schooling, you have developed a good grasp of language and I'm convinced that people would read this and estimate an author at an older age.

It's difficult to get internet readers to commit to a long story -- we have poor attention spans and scrolling down a lot hurts our fingers. That's why a lot of the stuff on here is short poems. You simply get less reviews for longer pieces, because people are disinclined to read them. However, this piece deserves to be read. In particular, I like the last two sentences: "Footsteps? I slept." I think they are interesting and evocative. The tension between the question and then sleeping is fascinating.

[Dean Vaksman]

You have a great voice to your writing. Plainly unique only to you. I usually find a hard time reading materials here all the way to the bottom, but this had managed to grab my attention, and it does not come in granted, not at all.

The only thing that bewildered me was how a young, tired and injured girl, who holds next to no clue of her surroundings, managed to outrun a healthy grown man, and a woman who I assume to be her mother.

Regardless of this plot concern of mine, the atmosphere is great, the writing is appealing, and you manage to make the reader sympathy with the protagonist.

Keep it up!

[Saige Wilson]

I enjoyed the story. It was easy to fallow. Personal opinion would be not to use the word I so many times. It does go with the story but over exaggerated. Please read my story Lucifer, chapters 1-3 are together.

[Alley Wainright1]

hey good work my bff

[Jesse the Writer]

I agree with the last reviewers that this is a well-written start to your story. It is interesting, and has good pacing and suspense. If you enjoy writing this story, then yes, you should continue. I would like to read more.

[Kerri Hart]

Very impressive
You show potential.
The story line definetly interested me (although you DID have sum spelling mistakes) and I definetly think you should continue