Ch 1

I opened my eyes, feeling as if every part of my body had been beaten with a stick. I moved my limbs, making sure nothing was broken, and thankfully, nothing was. But there were various bruises all over my body, and in some places, I was bleeding. And to top it all off, my head hurt horribly. I groaned.

I looked around. The sky was overcast, and it was only then that I realized how cold I was. I must have been in a park of some sort, because there were trees and grass and in the distance, a playground. Less than a hundred yards away was a street where cars rushed by, and beyond that, houses. I could barely make out the street signs enough to know that one was Olive and the other Joel.

All this didn't help me, because I still didn't know where I was. In fact, when I actually thought about it, I didn't know who I was. I couldn't recall anything: not where I lived, not my family, not my friends, not even my own name. It was like reaching into empty air, expecting to find something but finding nothing because obviously nothing was there. But it was different, different because I knew something had to be there, and it was simply hidden in my own mind. I just had to find it.

I racked my brains, trying to come up with something: a name, a date, a faceā€¦. But I still couldn't remember a thing, no matter how hard I tried to. It was beyond frustrating.

Eventually, I gave up. I started to think about what I was going to do exactly. Obviously, I needed to eat sometime. Not to mention my major need for the restroom. At least you didn't have to pay to use it.

I looked around, and soon enough, I spotted it: a small, grey building not to far away from the playground.

I hurried, and within a few minutes, I felt much better. When I went to wash my hands, I ended up looking in the mirror.

A boy of 15 or 16 stared back with intense green eyes. He had chin length, really light brown hair and an almost-too-pale complexion, one that reminded me of a vampire. He had a narrow face, thick eyebrows, and high cheekbones. But what disturbed me the most was the markings on his-or rather my-face. There was a bruise over one eye, and the other was puffy and swollen, something I didn't notice until now. My nose was clearly bleeding, and there was a gash that traveled diagonally across my left cheek. I traced it, shuddering as I thought about what could have possibly happened to me.

When I was finally done staring at my horribly beaten-up self in the mirror, I went outside. I walked, and as I did, I thought about my position. For the time being, I was homeless, unless I could remember where I lived. But when I tried, still nothing came to mind. I checked my pockets, but they were empty. Which meant that I couldn't buy anything.

No money, no food, and no memory. What was I going to do now?