I groan as I sit up and blink my eyes open. My vision is blurry but clear enough to tell that I am in a small bedroom. As my sight clears, I can tell that whoever this bedroom belongs to has a lot of money to spare. Everything looks so modern, yet homey and comfortable.
It isn't your typical rich people room, but it is set up like I am in a castle that the princesses and princes grew up in, in one of those childhood books parents and older siblings read to younger siblings.
Just the thought of them sends a chill throughout the veins in my body. I am not sure why. I try to scrape the edges of my memory of them, but nothing comes up–not even their faces. It’s like someone wiped my mind clean, like putting all of your files in the trash. Now that I think about it, I can’t remember anything. I can’t remember my name, my house, my friends, my school, how old I am–my mind is blank.
I scoot to the edge of the bed, facing the wall with a dark oak door. That's when I really look at the room. It may seem homey, but there aren't any personal items in the room. It looks like a room that would come out of a catalog. There is a dresser in the corner by the windows with curtains that are draped shut. Two matching nightstands sit on either side of the bed, with a closet on the left of the door that is located in the corner. A shiny and beautiful chandelier hangs in the middle of the ceiling, serving as the main light fixture.
My feet touch something smooth and cold. I look down and see that the floor is covered in a pretty pattern of light oak wood. The soles and toes of my feet graze the coolness of the floor, almost like petting a sleeping dog.
Deciding that it is time to investigate, my feet touch the ground fully, giving me a full view of my clothes. I slept in washed-out jeans and a dark green t-shirt that says 'Tennis Is The Best' in white lettering.
I turn my stare from my shirt to the dark wood door, contrasting from the ground. I walk over, the wood creaking under my feet. My hand hovers in front of me and I tug on the doorknob. It doesn't budge.
A sigh escapes my lips in disappointment and irritation. I can't seem to remember anything before I woke up. Every time I try to push for the memories, all I get are blurry images that are gone as soon as they come. Just like that. It's like I am pushing the door to my memories open, while someone on the other side is pushing back; and they are much stronger than I am.
I concentrate harder but come up empty-handed. I can't even remember the little blurbs that I get.
I back away from the door and look for something small and thin. I take a peek around and look in all of the crevices and drawers that I see and can find. I swear I looked everywhere⎼⎼I even checked for secret compartments. There is nothing else except for the furniture and some pots filled with a variety of flowers.
Then, I slap my forehead. Why didn’t I think of opening the curtains and trying to escape through the windows? But did they even have windows? Were the curtains just for looks and I was hundreds of miles underground? I slide the curtains out of the way, revealing a crystal clear modern window.
I sigh in relief, then I pull the window open and peer down, making my stomach drop.
No, no, no, no, no, no…
I frantically shut the window and close the curtain. There has to be another way, there must be. With that in mind, I recheck everything, looking for details that I might have not noticed before.
Like before, I found nothing.
I lay back on the bed, feet resting on the wood floor. What place doesn't even have a bathroom?
I sit up abruptly.
There is no bathroom, meaning that they would have to let me out at some point to use the toilet.
I gaze at the door in anticipation as if I can will someone to walk through and let me out.
Then my shoulders sag and the gloom washes over me, bringing a gray cloud over my head. What if they make me pee in here?
I lay back down and stare at the arched ceiling with wooden support beams, going back and forth on whether I am going to get out of here or not. There are so many scenarios that I can think of that explain why I am here and why I have lost my memory: I have been abducted, I am crazy, this is another world and bypassing through here makes me lose my memory, and then someone finds me, locks me in this room, and takes away my memories of them.
After what seems like an hour, my ears perk up at the sound of footsteps coming towards the door. Like the excitement of the wagging tail of a dog, I can feel the energy growing inside of me, spreading rapidly, my skin vibrating.
They pause at the door, then move on, their steps fading away. "Hey!" I call. "Come back here!" I jump out of the comfy bed and pound on the door with squeezed fists. "Let me out!"
I keep yelling and screaming until my throat hurts.
After a few minutes of just standing there and following the lines and grooves of the door with my eyes, I swallow and sink to the floor on my knees. I pull them to my chest and rock back and forth, holding back the tears that fill in my eyes.
I refuse to cry.
I cannot cry.
This is a no crying zone.
I am not going to cry.
I burst into tears and it all came rushing out. Rivers of salty tears curve over my cheek and jaw, making their way onto my neck and soaking into my shirt. I sniff the snot away and rub my cheeks and eyes. Crying sucks.
I sniff again.
Maybe this is hell. Maybe I was a horrible person and this is my hell.
I lay down on the hard floor and close my eyes, little streams of water gliding down my face gently.
A persistent knock jolts me awake. I sit up quickly, following a rush of dizzyness to my head. I ignore it and stand up. Another knock, this time more impatient. I move towards the sound and pull on one of the curtains slowly, peeking my head out. I didn't know what I was expecting, but I definitely wasn't expecting a gray-eyed stranger staring at me.
I open my mouth in a scream when the stranger puts a finger to her lips. I close my mouth and give her a confused look. She pushes the window open and climbs inside, shutting it behind her quietly.
I stand back and look down at her. She is quite short, maybe 5 feet. Her light blonde hair is tied back in a braid, a few hairs framing her oval face, and sweat drips down her skin like she just did a hard workout. She frowns at me in confusion. "Do you not recognize me, Lena?"