text: What... Huh? were my first thoughts as I felt myself take ahold of my consciousness. Where... Wh--No, where... The. What. I blinked a few times, slowly gaining control of my body's senses. Underneath me, I felt a scratchy but comfortable material supporting my body. My face felt numb and my nose picked up a number of unexplainably unpleasant smells. In my direct line of sight, there was a small television set a few feet away, blaring images my mind was too weak to comprehend. I attempted to move my head to get a more complete look of my surroundings, only to feel a sharp pain in my neck. It was stiff. Possibly from my awkward position while I slept. Where was I? Why was I asleep? Why don't I...? There was a throb in my skull--a signal from the brain that it was overexerted. The soreness in my eyes felt the same. What had I been doing? I recovered from the pain in my neck only for the sounds and bright lights coming from the television to overload my senses. Instinctively, I pressed down with a finger and the sounds suddenly stopped. The screen switched to black. I looked down--carefully because of the crick in my neck--to find my hand wrapped around a small battered device the size of a remote control. It was a remote control. My hand... How had I known to do that? I let go of the remote control and studied my hands, holding them up to my face. They were on the short side, with the nails overgrown and unclean, but otherwise, looking fine with all fingers I knew of accounted for. No scars. No marks. I used my hands to get a feel of myself. I needed to know more. Hanging loosely from my upper body was a blue t-shirt with small unidentifiable stains. My legs were lightly covered with pajama bottoms. My feet were bare. Feeling less light-headed and more in control of my self, I hoisted myself up--a challenging feat--to a standing position to get a better bearing of what other mysteries there were around me. Keeping my body standing took more effort than anticipated and I heard a low groan from my own throat as I forced my legs to adapt to the situation. They shook in resistance but the mind prevailed. I allowed myself an exhale when I finished making certain that I would stay upright. On to the next mission. I swiveled my head (ow) and took in everything I could see, smell, hear, and feel. I was in a room. It was of average size but barren save for the television set, a brown sofa meant for one (where I had woken up) and, of course, me. Me. Me... Who was I? Why can't I remember...? Since my thoughts still refused to cooperate, I grabbed at my body again for more identification. Two tender lumps on my chest. Female, I concluded. My glance at my reflection on the dark screen of the television proved that theory wrong and that I was not a woman. I was just fat. Squinting, I managed to make out a young man of moderate height, long light brown hair and plenty of excess weight. This was not much information. It also hurt a bit. Demoralized, I turned away from my image. I knew enough of how I looked. But my past... The walls of the room were a faded cream, lit only by a single fluorescent light, bathing everything its light touched in a sickly glow. There were no windows and no--Doorway! My eyes found a doorway, which lead somewhere. Somewhere other than here. But where is here? I asked myself, my teeth clenched and my breathing turned ragged. What happened to me? Why can't I... I calmed myself down. I was still in potential danger. I needed to know many things: who I was, what I had done and why I had done it, among many others. But at the moment, I only needed the answer to one question: What lies in the next room? I took a tentative step forward, only to instantly feel something cold under my naked feet. A knife. I hadn't noticed it before, but on the floor of the room was a small blunt knife, coated in a dark substance that resembled the stains on my shirt. I shuddered, wavering. I wanted to leave the knife. Leave it behind. But would that mean leaving behind my past? Would I even like who I was, if I ever did? I felt the air turn cold as the surface of the blade and I chose to pick it up, if ever I needed a weapon. Feeling more powerful with something to hold, I forged on, one foot at a time, taking in everything I could. The next room was dark. And cold. I preferred the other room, but there was nothing to learn there. I tried to see in the dark and failed, only noting that there was the sound of water. A bathroom? I was disoriented when I realized I didn't even know the time or date. It could have been night time or noon and I wouldn't know. Feeling with my hand and the knife, I felt a structure as cold as the floor, that purred quietly. I felt for a crack and found one. I almost jumped when cold air blasted across my body. It was a refrigerator. An empty one. The absence of food made my stomach grumble. I failed to realize I was in a kitchen and thought about when I had last eaten. Was it an hour ago? Weeks ago? It felt like I had been lying on the sofa for days, asleep. Was I a prisoner? A slave? Forced to stay in harsh conditions with nothing to keep me alive for long? If so, why? What had I done to deserve this? Had I done something for this? Had I committed some crime and am in a prison for it? Am I just waiting here for my punishment? Is this the punishment? Has trauma caused my mind to fail? What horrors have I witnessed so that I would want no memory of it anywhere--no trace to be found, even in my mind? Do I still want to know who I am? Do I have loved ones? Family? Anyone? Anything? Is this my hell? This gnawing uncertainty? This mystery that will remain unsolved? How am I sure that this is the first time this has happened? How long have I been here? How long have I been doing this? When-- Knock, knock, knock! I got whiplash as I turned towards the end of the lightless room, where the sound came from. My heart convulsed in horror as I heard the sound of a door unlocking and being opened. Who is that? What is that? Is it--? And then, there was light. Blinding. * "Oh my GOD, Herbert!" said the man who came in, dropping the bags he had been holding. He sounded exasperated. He looked around as I blinked through the sudden light. I vaguely heard him move past me to the refrigerator. My eyes returned to normal as the man shoved a small cardboard box that rattled under my nose. "Did you take these while I was out?" he demanded. "...I dont--" "Of course you don't!" the man yelled, throwing his hands up. He set the box down and I saw that they read "Amnesia Pills! 20% Off!". "You were supposed to wait after I came back with snacks to drink the pills," the man said, pacing around the small kitchen. "We were gonna watch The Sixth Sense for the first time again, Herb, you idiot!" I nodded sagely. "Herb..." The name sounded familiar. The man stared at me furiously before muttering something about the price being too good to be true and how impatient Herb (I) could be. "...I mean, look at the place! Your dirty dishes are everywhere, and you're standing in the dark like a psycho, holding a knife with jam you probably tracked on the floors, and you don't even know who you are because you wanted to relive watching a dumb movie again!" "I see..." I kept nodding. It was all becoming clear now. The man gave me one last look of hot fury before turning on his heel and setting himself down on the couch, muttering about how I was the worst and how he even put up with me. I looked down at my feet and then back to him. There was one final question left...