My lungs filled with damp air, as my eyes flutter open. I’m shaking and trying to figure out where I am. Who am I? Where am I? It takes me a few minutes to gather the information around me, I’m laying on the floor...pavement, wet pavement. Most likely it has rained.
Internally I make a list, a list that I find extremely helpful, especially in times like now:
1. My name is Violet Evelyn Smith 2. I am twenty-one years old, 3. I have D.I.D, or more commonly known as M.P.D, 4. I must act like a completely different person so that if one of the others caused some unwanted trouble, I can brush it off.
I stand up, walk forward. I haven’t got a clue where I’m going, but I know that wherever I’m going, I’ll probably run into someone. When I run into someone, I will be able to get directions, and maybe a bite to eat also.
I hear the roaring of sirens, and I quicken my pace. My walk became a jog, which soon escalates into a sprint. My shoes slap the pavement, harshly. Hopefully whatever the last one did, wasn’t as bad as before. At that time, I woke up in a jail cell.
I slow down to turn around, I’m greeted with nothing. Just a dark alleyway. “Ha!” I wheeze, “There’s nothing there! I’m alone...in this, dark alleyway...”
I start to quicken my pace. I occasionally glance over my shoulder, just to make sure no one is following me. Paranoia was eating away at me. I stopped and laugh.
“This is such a silly thing to be frightened of.” I say quietly, “There is no one-” And then a hand clamped over my mouth, and dragged my protesting self, into the shadows.