Start Over

Nothing seemed familiar.

The blankets under me felt hard and fitted. A scratchy pillow lay under my head. My body ached, as if I’d been tossed on the bed without any thought of a healthy sleeping position.

Had I been kidnapped?

I jumped up and fingered the pale blue curtains on the window beside me. Then I ran my hand against the tidied wooden dresser. A calendar above it hung off of a bulletin board, casting eerie shadows on the wood.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Wracked my brain. Searched for my memories of what had happened.

Nothing.

My chest tightened. Had I been here for long?

I smoothed down my sweater with shaking hands and glanced around for the door. It stood on the opposite end from the dresser, parallel to the bed. Everything seemed to have its rightful place in the room. It was wrong. It had to be wrong.

I turned the knob and jerked it open.

Unlocked. Maybe this wasn’t a kidnapping. Maybe I was okay.

I stumbled into the tiled hallway. Black and white tiles. Right beyond the hallway sat some wooden stairs. I hurried down them. A faint, stinging smell hung in the air.

No sight of anyone yet. My footsteps gave lonely creaks with each stair I rushed down.

I ran my hand down the smooth banister and paused to stare at the steps.

My breath caught. What did I remember?

I dashed down the rest of the stairs and slowed through a picture frame-filled hallway. The end led into a shiny white kitchen with an island which seemed too perfect and too organized.

And also which was void of people.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” I stepped up to the island and gripped the granite surface. “Does anyone know what this place is?”

My voice echoed against the walls.

“Lovely.” I nodded and turned to the fridge. Focusing on one thing would help my panic. I hoped.

Scattered magnets on the fridge held pictures to its sides. One showed a smiling, blonde-haired woman who held a diploma. She wore a plain black robe and a square-topped hat. A graduation hat.

Another picture caught my eye. Half of it was torn off, and it displayed the same woman. She sat on a green couch, reading a book I couldn’t make out the title of.

The final attachment to the fridge was a square mirror, near the top. I pushed it down in order to see my reflection.

The very same blonde-haired woman met my gaze.

A pang shot into my chest. I stepped back, staring at the mirror.

I hadn’t recognized myself. I hadn’t recognized my own pictures.

That couldn’t be possible.

My pocket buzzed. I flinched, then frowned and stuffed my hand into the fabric compartment. My fingers met a smooth box. I pulled it out.

A phone. Of course.

A circular button sat on the bottom of the phone, and I pressed it. The screen lit up, listing 8:35am – Thursday, August 5th, 2021. Below the time and date, an email notification was displayed. The sender listed “Paul Burman” and the subject line read “Job Absence – Expected Return?”

Well, I didn’t even know I had a job! I couldn’t be blamed for something I didn’t… even… remember.

Despite my pounding heart, my gaze traveled down to read the message anyway.

Mrs. Vierra,

I regret to inform you that your considerable absence has become a detriment to this company. You have not brought to attention the days where… The notification ended there.

A cold wave washed over me, and I stared at the text.

What was I even supposed to do?

I groaned and shoved my phone back into my pocket, then scoured the fridge. Where was a list of phone numbers? I needed a memory doctor. There had to be something.

On the other side of the fridge from the magnets, a bright pink note was stuck near the bottom. I crouched down and peeled it off. It left tinges of unorderly pink residue against the white fridge.

Blue ink scrawled a message on the paper. I rummaged around in my pocket as I scanned it over.

Dr. Lakeshore. 827 Applegate Street. Neurologist – brain doctor. A small flower was doodled in the upper right corner of the pink paper. A strange addition.

I just needed…

I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out a white box. Then I stuck a white cylinder in my mouth, and lit it with a dark blue lighter I’d automatically pulled out.

I stiffened. A cigarette. A lighter.

I smoked? Seriously? I was better than this!

I inhaled the smoke. Despite its wispy appearance, it felt like breathing in normal air. Which… didn’t seem quite right.

As the smoke billowed out around me, calming waves rippled through my body. The same bitter smell from earlier hung in the air. As crazy as it sounded, keeping that cigarette in my mouth eased the tension in my chest.

Bright pink flashed in my peripheral vision and I looked back to the note. Smoke billowed out from my mouth and brought tears to my eyes. I wiped them with my sleeve in order to focus on the note’s message again.

This was a person who could help me. Right?

I wanted to double-check, so I pulled out my phone and turned it on. The passcode screen flickered into view. Great.

I tried multiple passcodes, which didn’t work. Nothing worked.

I groaned and accidentally spit out my cigarette, which plopped down to the floor and scattered some black ash.

I shook my head and stuffed the note into my pocket.

Fine. Only because this was the one option I had.

I’d just need to find the front door, and then I could find this Dr. Lakeshore.

But I picked up my fallen cigarette first, along with its residue, and tossed it into a black trash can beside the fridge. Because the floors needed to be kept clean no matter what.