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The Fortune

5 Years Ago – Creation – Melanya

She was found in an abandoned house on the outskirts of town by a group of teenagers. They were no older than the girl they found bleeding heavily from two large wounds on her back. They’d just been looking to have a good time, not become suspects to a beating.

The girl was rushed to a hospital, where she was checked for internal bleeding, sowed up and put on IV’s to help her heal. Oddly enough for the Doctors working on her case, she healed much faster than the IV’s should have let her.

She woke up a day after she’d been found, her mind blank and her body sluggish. She opened her eyes and ears to a man in a blue uniform sitting beside her bed. He was an older gentleman, and his face seemed almost concerned. She didn’t know him, but she pretty sure she didn’t know anything. The man practically jumped out of his chair when she made a low groan of pain. She’d only attempted to move her arm; she hadn’t expected it to hurt. She didn’t think it was supposed to.

“Don’t try to move, you need to rest more,” the man said, and the words sounded foggy to her ears. She focused on him and his voice for a moment, before relaxing in her bed. Her eyes fell on the man’s clothing, and she took in the star gleaming on his shirt pocket. She didn’t know what that meant, but it was interesting.

“Can you talk, Melanya?” he asked. Melanya? She thought. Is that my name? Staring at him, once again taking a few moments to process, she nodded her head slowly. She believed she could probably talk, yes.

“Is that my name?” she asked, listening to the voice that left her lips for what felt like the first time. She met the man’s eyes, and she saw questions in them, that hadn’t been there moments before. What had she said? Why did he look more concerned now that he did before?

“It is your name,” he answered slowly, as if considering something, before adding, “You didn’t know that?” She—Melanya—shook her head. “Do you remember anything? Where you’re from, how you got here?”

Feeling slightly scared now that he was questioning her with that look on his face, she shook her head again. “What does that mean?”

“I guess it means you’ve lost your memory,” he sighed heavily. He stared at for a few moments. “We found you in an abandoned house outside town. You were alone, and you’ve been unconscious for the last day. You had no picture id, no wallet, and no purse. We think you were probably mugged. The only thing you had on you was this. It’s how we knew your name.”He took a piece of paper from the nightstand and handed it to her. Then, with another sad look, he excused himself saying he needed to go to speak with the doctor. Melanya nodded, because she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to feel about any of this. She felt panicked and worried, she felt scared. She felt completely alone.

Opening the folded paper, she let her eyes read over the five words that she would spend the next five years reading and trusting:

Melanya.
Don’t ever look back.

* * *

Present Time – Creation – Melanya

They ordered Chinese food at work today. Again.

Melanya knew that she probably shouldn’t complain. At least she was getting food. But, this was the fourth time in a week, and she really wasn’t that found of Chinese food. Or the fortune cookies. But, the people she worked with just really liked Chinese food. And she didn’t. It wasn’t the first time her vote got overlooked, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

She worked at a traders market down the road from her apartment. It was a nice job, she supposed. Then again, she didn’t know much about jobs. To be quite honest, she didn’t know much about anything.

Five years ago, her memory was erased. She didn’t know why, and she didn’t know how, but it had been. At least once a month, someone from somewhere she’d never heard of called her, wanting her to come in to be tested. They offered to pay for her flight, offered to provide her with complete luxury and food. They would fly her across the world, all because her case was completely out of the ordinary. And everyone wanted to be the one to solve the mystery. Typically, memory loss is the resulting effect of an injury to your temporal lobe, or the result of a traumatic experience, where you block out information to forget that.

When they’d found her, she’d been beat up, but there had been no injuries to her temporal lobe. And for an entire year, she’d gone to consoling to try and massage her mind into allowing some part of her memory to leak out. But, the longer she spent with psychiatrists and doctors, the more she realized that even they didn’t think she was experiencing traumatic memory loss. Because she wasn’t just blocking out a memory, she was blocking out her whole life. And if her life had been that bad…why would she want to get her memory back? So, after a year of being poked and probed, she backed out of all the trails, the meetings and the sessions. She stopped going to see her doctor. Her memory wasn’t going to come back, no matter what they did. Melanya had gotten so frustrated with all of it, that she’d simply stopped caring about ever getting it back.

Especially since the only thing she had from her past told her not to.

So, she still lived in darkness. Life was becoming brighter, the more she learned. But there was still this dark area in the back of her mind that she couldn’t refill just by relearning her colors and her shapes. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to refill that area but she was trying.

She was highly intelligent. She studied all the time, trying to recollect all the information she’d lost, relearn all the facts she must have learned in school as a kid. It was terribly frustrating, to be able to look at something, know you used to know what it did, but not remember how to work it. To have to relearn everything. And then there were some things that she looked at, and knew she’d never seen before—things that typical person would encounter every day. It was like her mind picked things it wanted to forget, and things it wanted to remember.

Honestly, she didn’t know what to think. But, she knew that she couldn’t—wouldn’t—worry about it. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t investigate her past, all because of the note they’d found on her. It was the only thing she brought with her from her past life. And it was the only part of her past that she ever let herself think about.

The hand writing wasn’t hers, unless her handwriting had changed drastically with her memory loss, but it seemed unlikely to her. So, if she believed that someone had sent this note with her…then it meant someone who cared enough to tell her to move on had been involved in all of this. If they could have given her a message, why did they only send this small note with her? Why not something telling her a little more about what was going on? She just wished they had offered her some kind of explanation. Because even though she wasn’t trying to figure her past out, it was hard to not have questions. Especially with the scars on her back. They were every day reminders of what she was trying to put behind her. A foot long a piece, they went from her collar bones to her mid-back. She had to watch the kind of shirts she wore to avoid questions. She had to pretend to have an answer when people asked. She had to ignore the shooting pains that lived inside the scars, as if telling her something was missing.

Something was always missing, she felt. Why should the scars on her back be any different?

One of her co-workers, whose name she couldn’t—and didn’t care too—remember brought her food to her, and then went back to his part of the store. They didn’t get many costumers, especially not around lunch time. Mainly, they had one rush of people right after dinner, and then there were just stranglers throughout the day. But, according to her co-workers, that was the beauty of being in such a small area: you could work and do nothing at the same time. All she knew was that this doing nothing was terribly boring in her opinion.

Melanya ate her food slowly, wasting time by taking slower bites that normal. She felt restless today. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because the pains in her back were worse than usual. Maybe it was because it had been exactly five years ago today, that she’d woken up in the hospital room, alone and scared. A part of her wanted to go out and celebrate that she’d made it on her own. But, who would she go with, and what fun was eating dinner at a fancy restaurant alone? There were still a few people she occasionally wrote to from the Orphanage she’d been at for a few years, but no one she really talked too, no one she felt was really a friend. Basically, all she had was the lint that was most likely residing in her pockets.

So, the part of her that wanted to celebrate lost to the part of her that felt bummed by the anniversary.

Because it had been five years and she’d made no advancements towards remembering anything, and even though she had made a life for herself, she always just felt so…alone. But, she worked her best at being happy. And she thought she did a damn good job of it, given the circumstances.

Finishing her meal, she opened her cookie and munched on the shell. She could never decide if she actually likes the taste of the cookie or not. The first time she’d seen one, she’d had no clue what she was supposed to do with it, and when instructed to eat it, she’d popped it in her mouth, only to discover the paper hiding on the inside. Needless to say, she now knew how to flawlessly eat a Fortune cookie. Once she’d swallowed the shell, she unfolded the fortune, in read it in a slightly precautious way.

Don’t let fear stop you, in the face of your greatest danger.

As with the cookie, she wasn’t sure how she felt about its ingredients either. At times, she wanted to believe they were true, but wasn’t sure how creditable a paper that lives inside a cookie can be. And today, she wasn’t sure it was applicable at all to her current life situation. Something had to happen for fear to be ensued, and for the most part, she led a very mediocre routine. She worked, she went home, she listened to the radio, and then she studied life. The worst thing she had to fear was the bugs that crawled their slimy way into her home, and she didn’t let fear stop her when she squished them.

Carelessly stuffing the fortune into her pocket (to befriend the lint, she supposed), she subconsciously rubbed her back against the back of the chair; searching to no avail for something to ease the constant pain.

She couldn’t help but think it was too bad her fortune hadn’t read: you’ll find the answers you’ve always been looking for…

…she couldn’t help but not know that in a way, it had.

* * *

It didn’t take her long after entering her home that she realized something was out of place.

She lived in a little cottage on the outskirts of town. It was nice, she supposed. Kind of lonely, but so was the rest of her life. She never had visitors, but she also never had people trying to sell her vacuums or so forth, so she supposed that was nice. And that was why she knew something was wrong when she pushed open the front door—that, and there was a clicking noise coming from her kitchen. Sitting her bag on the floor, she grabbed the handle to the door, and slammed it shut.

“Honey, I’m home…” she called out, as if someone should be waiting for her. Maybe she could scare them into peace, make them revel themselves without putting her in danger. That would be a lucky, wouldn’t it?

“No one is here waiting for you.”

The response came in a quiet, slightly robotic voice. It was definitely coming from her kitchen, but sounded as if it was miles and miles away. Contemplating slowly, she decided that she should probably just go see what it was—it hadn’t shot her yet, so maybe it wouldn’t at all.

“How do you know there isn’t?” she asked, stepping through the doorway, and onto the tiled floor.

And what was sitting on her kitchen table made her mind spin. Sitting possibly wasn’t the proper word, since she wasn’t sure a holographic image could sit. It just kind of floated. So, what was floating on her table was the projected image of a robotic man, with circular glasses and happy human eyes. He stared at her, in his foot high appearance, as if allowing her to take it in. And then he said something that did not help her take it in at all,

“Because I know a lot about you, Melanya. My name is Draerr, I’m a Droid with the power to See. And I can See that you need to get out of here and fast. I mean this seriously, and I think you should consider questioning me later,” he added. Melanya was beginning to get a headache, and even as she opened her mouth to sarcastically ask if she should get a bag of stuff to take with her, or just go in her birthday suit, he was continuing. “No, really, don’t ask questions. Just go. Out the back door. Now, before—“

She found out what was going to follow before he said it, when she heard something smash through her front door. She heard the wood splinter out and over the floor, and a rush of fear went through her. Reaching over, she grabbed a pan from the shelf and flattened against the wall. Her heart was beating in her ears, and she could barely focus on anything.

Ba-Bump. The back door was down the hall. It would take two seconds to dash for it, but she’d have to pass the entrance.

Ba-Bump. She could hear him stomping through her living room. He was heading towards her. She had no time to run.

Ba-Bump. Did she even know how to fight, much less with a frying pan? She never knew if she knew how to do anything until she was presented with the actual action. Unfortunately, judging by the sound of his stomping feet, she’d know in just a few seconds.

Ba-Bump, Ba-Bump. A large, too large to be real, man stomped his way into her kitchen, and let out a loud growl as he did so. Taking a deep breath, Melanya swung the pan with all her might, and she’d be damned if the impact of the pan to the beast did nothing but dent her twenty-five dollar pan and send pain up her arms.

Letting out a yelp, she dropped the pan, and ducked as his arm swung towards her. Somersaulting (she knew how to flawlessly somersault?!) across the floor like a ninja, she pulled open a drawer and grabbed a knife. She wasn’t sure how helpful this would be against the giant, but she was going to try. Or else die without fighting. Swinging out, she nicked the man’s arm as he growled and swiped at her head. She ducked her head, and he swiped her shoulder instead. The man’s blunt size and empowering strength sent her to her knees. He’d only barely hit her shoulder and had her screaming from the pain he inflicted. One thing was clear, he couldn’t hit her head. She’d be dead if he did.

He swung again, and she ducked her head again, forcing him to once again get her shoulder. She let out another scream, grabbing her shoulder with the opposite hand. Tears burst to her eyes, and she held them back. She wasn’t going to cry from the pain, she had to find a way out of this. Thinking quickly, she put her shoulders to work, despite their pain. Moving quickly, she tried to crawl to the doorway, but he was quick. He spun around as she slid under between his legs, and he swiped her back. It crushed her to the ground, and she let out a cry of pain once again. She wasn’t going to be able to do this. She couldn’t fight this monster. She was done for. She was scared, and she was alone. She was…facing her greatest danger.

Don’t let fear stop you, in the face of your greatest danger.

As he growled once more, Mel rolled from her stomach to her back, to stare up at him. She was, possibly ignorantly, putting her faith in that fortune. But, she could feel it: something was going to happen. Something that would save her life, she just had to believe in herself.

“Bring it on, you big lug,” she muttered, as he raised his arm again. And as it came down on her, she shut her eyes and threw her hand out in front of her. Screaming in fear of what was to come, she felt something pull inside her, and as it pulled, she felt a force, three times the power of his blows, leave her body. When it slammed into him it produced the sound of thunder rumbling through the sky, and she heard him let out a moan of pain as he was rocketed across the room.

Opening her eyes in amazement, she stared at the giant man, astounded that she’d just thrown a man possibly the weight of a large mule across the room. She was astounded yes, but she also felt almost exhilarated; she was filled with more questions than ever now, but it felt right. For the first time in five years, she didn’t presume that something was missing (even though, clearly, something was missing, since she’d just released a terrifyingly strong power from within her). The exhilaration is what pushed her to get off the floor, despite the stabbing pains in her arms, and get the hell out of there. Mr. Angry Giant Man was still groaning and moaning, signaling that he was still alive and quite possibly dangerous, and Mel wasn’t stupid—she knew she needed to bolt, and fast. Who knew when his friend Mr. Angier-because-you-hurt-Angry Giant Man was going to turn up?

Sprinting to the living room, she snagged her coat and bag off the chair, and then headed towards her back door. This was all she would need to get by. She had her money and her credit cards in her bag, and enough money between the two to get by for a while without problems (well, financial problems, considering the lug she’d just knocked out). So, within seconds, she was escaping the only home she’d ever really known with nothing but her coat, the clothes on her body, and her bag. As she reached the edge of the woods a half a mile away from her house, she stopped for a moment and looked behind her. And, for a moment, she didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave the security of her home. She didn’t want to be out in the wild with no defenses but some apparently magical power held inside her.

But, something else inside her was fighting those feelings, telling her this was right, this was what she needed to do. Besides, how could she possibly go back now?

Reaching into her pockets, she pulled out the two strips of paper that were holding house there. The one was her fortune, that she’d placed there today and had possibly saved her life. The second, was the piece of paper they’d found on her five years ago.

Don’t ever look back…

For five years, she’d followed this advice. It seemed that following it now meant going back and allowing that monster to bash her skull in. So, for the first time in her five years of remembered life, she stuffed the paper back in her pocket, and didn’t feel inspired. Instead, she felt let down. The paper used told her someone was out there, wishing her good will. Now, she just felt alone.

Alone, because for the second time in five years she was heading out into the world with nothing but words on paper to guide her.