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She couldn't remember how she got there. A quick glance around and nothing seemed to be any clear - then the ache. Such a splitting, throbbing pain. There was no way to make any sense of time or place - everything was bathed in an inky black pitch and yet she knew there was no solid mass around her. It was as if she had been left to float aimlessly and devoid of any sense of direction. She could not tell if moving forward would carry her over a ledge or if there was something concrete she could walk upon if she moved. A draft seemed to catch her then - tossing her tousled locks to and fro as they whipped against her cheek and forehead. This made it seem as if she were standing in the darkness at the summit of a mountain surrounded by nothingness with the only sensation coming from an unseen force. Strange, how this brought her mind away from the ebbing pain that now seemed barely a blip on the radar of her nervous system. But to continue to stand there - this was the question that boiled up to replace her previous concerns. For now, that same wind seemed to grip in rising rage, tearing at the threadbare clothing that she realized scarcely covered her now shivering skin. From one horrible condition to the next, the state of her circumstances was only shaping to become that much worse. "Are you awake, child?" A feminine voice brushed her ears; audible and yet seemingly aged, she couldn't see a person to make out to whom it belonged, however and an uncertainty sparked in her chest. Instinct driving the hairs to rise at the nape of her neck, and yet somehow knowing that she wouldn't be able to evade the voice that clearly knew she was there. A gulp, and a knot seemed to form in her throat with a fierceness beyond anything she had ever before experienced. How queer - always so vocal and outspoken in life, she had never felt so helpless; so paralyzed. It was almost as if her vocal chords had been struck with some sudden ailment and ceased to function in their proper utilization. A strange, and unwelcome fact that made her heart skip a long with the shock that came from feeling so helpless and vulnerable. Who was this woman? What was her intentions...and more than that; who was she? After some time, fraught with her intrusive thoughts, and what seemed like a time pausing the woman spoke up yet again, "I said, are you awake, dear?" The voice seemed closer now, and still as her eyes scattered around her surroundings nothing made sense. She still could see no one, and the shadows all around her seemed to be equally motionless; a dark unmoving and steady reminder of the emptiness she felt inside. Eerie, and completely reminiscent of the depression that had settled in upon her; and somehow this memory did stick out. A feeling so strong the isolating reality of her life seemed to be in perfect alignment with this sentiment. Was it best to answer the woman? Would reaching through the darkness somehow illuminate her presence and bring her to recognize that she wasn't quite alone, and maybe give her some idea of who she was? With far more questions than answers, the solution seemed far-fetched and with swelling pride replacing her former fear she parted her lips to whimper... WHACK. A bright and blinding white light broke through the darkness and rising instantly within her bed she glanced around unsure of what to think, and feeling a familiar throbbing atop her head she noted the hospital monitors and the pure, laboratory white surroundings she found herself in; quaking in a tremble she gasped and still nothing made sense. How did she get here, who was she and why did this stark hospital room and the frock of a hospital gown she wore say MELAYNE MENTAL INSTITUTION? *** “Has the subject awakened?”&nbsp; A deep, masculine voice broke through the silence, and a petite woman, Suzette Monroe, glanced up to note her boss entering the room with his usual demeanor - refined, absolute, and determined.&nbsp; “Hello, Dr. Hamyle; I apologize, I didn’t think I would see you until the evening vital assessments were taken. Is everything alright?” “Yes, but I am curious now - not later, and if you could provide me the details I’m seeking perhaps we won’t need that evening check-in at all?” Dr. Hamyle urged. Suzette’s fingers spread out across a biometric bracelet, pulling up bits of vital information as the brunette woman peered down to assess her objective, “She has been screaming like a banshee for the past hour - at least, Dr. Hamyle.” “An hour? Just a straight scream - no words?” Dr. Hamyle’s eyebrow lifted, a curious motion that aligned with his pondering thoughts. A random banshee screaming nothing for hours might warrant sedation, but first knowing the limitations of the subject needed clarifying. “Just, ‘why am I here,’ over and over. It is clear she remembers nothing.” The exasperated sound of the reporter’s voice was a somewhat entertaining prospect for Dr. Hamyle, and it rather rubbed at his egocentric personality - like a welcome internal massage of energetic worship that allowed him all the opportunity to bask in his own perceived greatness while under the guise of simply utilizing his expertise.&nbsp; “An advantage; the memories of what she was before might overshadow what we wish her to become.” Dr. Hamyle gave a nod, pursing his lips casually as he weighed the report given. “Which is?” Dr. Hamyle chuckled lightly, as if unmoved by his colleague’s lack of following. He expected no one could think as brilliantly as he did, but the monies brought in from collaboration and sponsorship were one thing he’d never been willing to decline. “An agreeable subject, Dr. Monroe - one who will become what we’ve been eagerly seeking.” Dr. Hamyle winked, and Dr. Monroe’s lips curved into a grin so laden with malice it championed the chuckle immediately following it. A successful endeavor was only as powerful as the subject’s inability to discover who exactly they are.&nbsp; As long as they never knew, they never looked back.&nbsp;

A Memory Unknown

Saimarie

InfinityxCreations

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What...what was it, again?

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