MEMORIES

Roseline's phone vibrated endlessly on the bedside drawer, causing her to jump from her sleep in shock.

She grabbed her head tightly with both of her hands to ease the throbbing pain that hammered against her skull.

Her eyes were heavy and the sting she felt from them was unbearable. 

Her legs were numb and her waist stiff like she had been lifting heavy weights.

For ten straight minutes, she was unable to move her legs, let alone get off the bed.

Her entire body felt weak, like it didn't belong to her. 

Finally, she managed to pull her feet gently through the sheets and onto the floor.

The vibration from her phone had stopped for a second, but as soon as she dragged her body to stand, the phone resumed its vibration, causing her to shudder in shock.

Then slowly, her eyes darted around the room. It felt unfamiliar and the vibes she got from it were strange.

Where was she?

She remembered checking in to the hotel the previous night, but there was something not right about the room she had just woken up in.

Her eyes flickered with confusion as she moved slowly towards the bathroom, carefully prompting her mind to remember the room number the staff had checked her into.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't recall the figures imprinted in gold on the key-card she handed over when she paid for a room.

Just before she got to the bathroom door, she turned, and her eyes fell on the mini-round glass table, then the fridge at the far end of the room.

She felt something crash hard like glass in her head, and she quivered, almost losing touch with her balance and dropping to the floor, but she was quick to lean against the wall behind her.

Her head resumed pounding hard against her skull. With her eyes shut from the effect of the migraine, she massaged a side of her head with her hand to feel better.

Steadying her stance after some time, she hurried over to the wardrobe and threw the doors open. They were there. Her brown Italian plastic suitcase and her Brazilian leather handbag.

The wheeler of the suitcase was hanging out. Her eyes lingered on it for some seconds, before reaching for it. Grabbing it, her heart immediately sank in.

She began to cough hysterically, rubbing her chest desperately with her hands folded in a fist.

The coughing continued, stretching her throat painfully until she retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and gulped it all down.

Her eyes itched, and her throat hurt as she breathed in and out slowly.

What was happening to her?

She was struggling to remember what had happened the previous day, and she wanted to believe the room she was in now wasn't the same one she had checked into.

She lifted her hand to wipe her face, but her eyes caught something on the side of the middle finger of her left hand.

It was a line of caked blood.

She traced it with another finger, staring down at it and forcing her brain to remember how and when she got injured.

Music and lots of dancers.

A man grabbed her hand, his eyes inspecting her fingers.

She squeezed her eyes tighter and bit her teeth against themselves, but she couldn't remember what the man looked like or where they were.

The environment was dark, and the image kept registering as blurry to her brain.

She let out an exasperated sigh, stamping her feet frustratingly on the floor.

What was wrong with her?

"Thompson. Yes. "I have to reach Thompson", she muttered to herself, turning around to find her phone.

Just before her hand reached it, it began to ring again, causing her to jump in shock.

She took a deep breath-in and out before grabbing the phone to check the caller.

"Thank goodness," she yelled, clicking the answer button, her body hot and trembling.

"I've been calling you", Thompson's voice came on the receiver.

"I-I was--", she stammered before he cut her off.

"I'm at the reception of your hotel, but I don't know what room you're in," he said, a trace of frustration lining his tone.

"Okay. I'm just going to grab my bags and meet you down there", Roseline replied weakly, uneasy because everything she felt was not right.

Her heart kept thumping speedily in her chest and her fingers trembled, and she grabbed her handbag and threw her phone in it.

Sliding it across her shoulders, her hands moved to the carrier of her suitcase, but as soon as her fingers met with it, her heart holed inside again, causing her to gasp desperately for air.

With shock glazed in her eyes, she stared at the suitcase, not sure of what to make out of the strange feeling.

Sighing, she hurriedly wore her shoes and, dragging the large suitcase by the second handle, she managed to wheel it out of the door.

Anxious, her breathing irregular, she drew the door close, but the hinge movement slowly came to a lazy halt before the bolt could click into its hole.

Something was stuck under it.

"What now!", Roseline yelled under her breath, cursing the ill-luck the morning had greeted her with today.

Looking down, she saw the squeezed paper that had hindered the door from closing properly.

Swallowing hard, she bent down to pick it up.

Unfolding and straightening it, she saw it was a patient card from an eye clinic for a lens recommendation.

THOMAS WHITE?

"What a coincidence", she thought, scoffing at the thick paper in her hands.

"Hey, Roseline", someone yelled her name from a distance.

She turned to find Thompson waving at her from the far end of the long corridor.

Her eyes made to dissolve into a smile, but slowly, they formed into a look more deadly than excited to see a loved one.

Mindlessly slipping the thick paper into her bag, her feet forged forward. Her face was tight with an unreadable expression.

One slow step, and the next.

Then, the next.

She walked towards where Thompson stood.