Just a really bad story I quickly wrote out of boredom. =p ~Rika~

I awoke abruptly, not sure of what had startled me up. My surroundings were dark and it was almost impossible to make anything out. I groggily reached around, hoping to find a lamp, but at the moment, I couldn't remember where I was in general much less where the light switch was. To my dismay, a lamp was nowhere in my vicinity, but my eyes began adjusting slowly to the room. It was a plain room with light-colored walls and very little furniture. I barely made out the dark outline of a desk to one side of the room and what appeared to be a cabinet of some sort in front of the bed. To my left were two doors. I imagined one was an exit and the other a closet. Finally, I managed to locate a light switch near the first door.

I switched on the [rather dim] light and looked around the room, puzzled. I wasn't sure if this was my room. Frankly, I wasn't sure of absolutely anything. There were no windows in the room, but adjacent to the desk was a mirror. I was definitely a woman, probably in my early 20's. I had long auburn hair and blue eyes. I was wearing a light blue nightgown which seemed rather well-pressed having just survived a night's sleep. My hair was neatly styled as well in a curly updo. I found it rather odd and a bit creepy that I'd no recollection of myself whatsoever. Even looking in a mirror was like meeting somebody new.

My attention diverted towards the desk. It was a very plain cedar desk with no drawers. Atop it was a simple yellow notebook, a pen, a boring-looking bottle of perfume, and a clock. The pen was broken and was leaking black ink on the surface of the notebook. I gingerly opened the cover, trying to avoid the ink getting on my hands. Inside were random doodles. Hearts, stars, smiley faces. Many of the pages were blank, but it was the inside of the back cover that disturbed me the most. Smeared in black ink was the word, "HELP."

With a shudder, I closed the notebook and sat on the bed. I was a little afraid. I didn't want to leave the room just yet.. not until I got some answers. But being in there gave me a very bad feeling, almost like I wasn't supposed to be there at all. I decided to find out as much as possible about myself in the quickest amount of time before leaving. I quietly scurried toward the cabinet. It was, like everything in the room, very plain. Inside was a mound of clothing in all colors. The clothes were not neatly folded, but instead were tossed carelessly in the cabinet as if someone was in a great hurry. They did not smell freshly laundered. They smelled musty, like they hadn't been washed in ages. Underneath the pile of clothing was a small cardboard box, but it was empty with the exception of a lock of hair matching my own. What did this all mean?

The bed gave no answers. The sheets were bleach white and there was nothing in them. Underneath the bed was nothing but the floor. I was beginning to become frustrated and discouraged. I started hastily toward the first door, confused enough to do something risky in hopes of finding some answers. I pulled the door open and was a little disappointed to find I had come across the door leading into the closet. My disappointment did not last long. Inside the closet were two large wooden crates. I pulled the first one out and set it on the floor. The lid was tightly shut, but with a little effort, I managed to unlodge it. Hundreds of scattered pictures greeted me upon removing the lid. I was in the pictures with various people. I imagined, judging by resemblance alone, that these people were my family. I headed for the second box, but stopped in my tracks when I heard the other door begin the open. Horrified, I stared towards the person ascending into the room like a deer in headlights. I recognized this person from the pictures.

She looked sad and walked right by me. She placed her hand on the bed and I was surprised to see that it was all made up. I didn't remember making the bed. As a matter of fact, the room as a whole looked different. The desk was the same, but above it was a window I hadn't noticed previously. The cabinet door was now shut. I glanced back at the box of pictures. To my amazement, it was gone. I was becoming very nervous. The woman, probably in her 60's, was still ignoring me. She rummaged through the closet and came out with the other box. She took what looked to be a scrapbook out of it.

I walked near her and peered over her shoulder, intent on finding out what was going on. She flipped through the first pages of the book. Pictures of a happy baby who eventually became a cute red-headed child as the pages were turned. Soon, a young woman looking very much like myself began to fill the pages. Me in a prom dress, me in a cap and gown, me in a wedding dress. The woman's fingers stopped on a page. It was a driver's license with my picture. "Priscilla Jennifer Logan" was the name. The age was 24, but the license looked relatively old. Underneath was a social security card with the same name. The woman began to sob as she turned to the next page. It was a newspaper article. It was hard for me to make out the whole story because the newspaper was so yellowed, but I understood it was about a fatal car accident. A young woman suffered horrible amnesia and shockingly died in her sleep in her own bed. Finally, the woman reached the last page. It was a death certificate. "Priscilla Jennifer Logan." A chill went through me and I backed up into the desk. "Mom!" I called. The woman didn't turn. Instead she got up, put the box away, and left the room.

How many times had I done this; awoken to this room only to forget where I was? To forget not only who I had been, but that I was no longer alive. I slumped on the bed, letting the horrible truth sink in. This was my eternity.

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