Chapter 5: Déjà vu

   Harper

   My head is pounding. I feel like my eyes are going to explode from the massive migraine pulsating inside my temples. I feel like I can’t move. I try wiggling. They slowly move. Next, I move my fingertips. Check, they also move—all good signs. I am staring at the ceiling and notice a small vent. I catch a glimpse of a small blinking light inside of the duct. My head is pounding so hard. It’s hard to focus on anything. Where am I? “hello,” I call out in a low, raspy voice that sort of cackles. I slowly hoist myself up into a seated position on the bed. The sheets are black. I have welted blisters on my arms. I push the sheets down, and sure enough, I have them on my legs. I lift my shirt halfway up, and I have three on my stomach. This is looking bleak. Every inch of my body hurts. Where am I? What’s my name? Focus! I grab my head, shake it in protest to remember something, anything. I see a face. It is beautiful; she is gorgeous. What is her name? She has freckles and a small nose with copper brownish, red hair. She is perfection. The imagine vanishes with a cluster wave of pain in my temples.

    I am wearing black sweat pants and a long-sleeve black t-shirt and short black socks. My hair is pulled back in a black hair tie. I can’t remember how I got here or how long I have been here. There is a black door directly in front of the bed, about five feet from the door. Above the door is a weird light fixture. I want to get up and go towards the door, but I am sure it is locked, and how could I even get around. I feel so weak. Have I been drugged? There is a toilet to my right. It is piped directly into the wall, and there is a sink right next to it. I shift slowly out of bed. Dangle weak, skinny legs out of this unfamiliar bed that is starting to feel too familiar and try to stand. Standing is beginning to feel foreign to me. I shake as I walk over to the sink. Turning on the cold water, I hold my head under the sink and gulp down water like a guy who has just been saved from the desert after days without water.

    After downing at least half a gallon of water, I splash water on my face and stare in the mirror. I am trying to understand what I am looking at. What is my name? I look like a Hailey or a Jessica, maybe? She focuses hard on the center of her forehead. Her eyes are open. She is quiet, and so is her mind. She wants to know who she is. What is her name, she thinks? What is my name? She asks herself… She jumps back a bit as a small white mass begins to form in front of the mirror, creating a character in her head. 

My name is Amelia Harper Edison.