Who am I?

*Amber/Sarah*

 Waking up in pain isn't new to me; that much I know. But waking up feeling this level of confusion? That’s definitely a first, and my wolf is no help either. I can’t recall what has happened to make my entire body ache like this. Have I been in an accident? Or was it a nasty fight? Why does this pain feel so familiar when I have no idea where it’s coming from? What happened to me?

 I dare not move, and I can’t seem to muster the strength to open my eyes. I try to gather my thoughts. I know I am in pain, and that it isn’t normal, but what else do I know? Who am I?

 Finally, I open my eyes and gaze up at a gray ceiling. There are several holes in it, and isolation material is poking out of the corners. Where am I?

 The walls have undoubtedly been white at one time, and before that, they seem to have been rose-colored. It’s clear this room hasn’t been maintained in ages; no one seems to care that the wallpaper is peeling, exposing layers of what once was. In some places, the bare wall is visible, while in others, the insulation peeks through.

 A piece of plastic covers the window, and despite the grime, I can see that the glass beneath it is broken. The furniture is sparse and old. The large bed I’m lying on is surprisingly comfortable, and the dark blue linen is clean. Aside from that, there is only a small dresser next to the door and a chair beside the bed, where a glass of water has been left.

 I attempt to sit up, but the pain is unbearable, and I quickly give up. A knot forms in my chest, and a lump rises in my throat. I can’t hold back the tears and sobs that escape me.

 There are three knocks on the door before a young man steps inside. ‘Man’ might not be the right term, though; despite his muscular build, his face looks very young. He has thick, dark blonde hair slicked back with wax, and he wears loose dark pants with many pockets and a tight white T-shirt that reveals a tattoo on his right arm: an S impaled on a sword.

 “Good to see you awake,” he says as he enters. He doesn’t seem threatening, but my instinct makes me avoid eye contact. I pull away from him, causing him to pause, concern etched on his face.

 “Do you need anything? Water? Food? Painkillers?” I don’t respond; my entire body shakes uncontrollably. Who is he? Who am I, and how did I end up here in this bed under his care?

 “It’s okay.” He looks a bit confused and even more worried. He turns toward the door and calls for someone else. Shortly after, a young woman enters. Her long black hair is braided and hangs over one shoulder. She has a pretty face and piercing green eyes, wearing only light makeup and very tight jeans. Her top reveals a bit of skin on her stomach, and she has the same tattoo as the young man.

 “She’s scared shitless,” he explains to her as he moves toward the door.

 “It’s okay.” She slowly moves to sit at the edge of my bed. “KC, could you grab some fresh water, some bread, and some painkillers?” She doesn’t look at him, but he nods before hurrying out the door. “I’m Kattie,” she says, smiling at me.

 The knot in my chest loosens a little. She seems less intimidating than the young man, but the whole situation is still frightening. Not knowing anything makes me want to panic.

 “How are you feeling?” she asks.

 I think for a long moment before answering, uncertain if my voice will even work. “Someone hurt me,” I whisper, surprised by how fragile my voice sounds compared to hers. The fear is evident in my tone.

 “You’re safe here,” she assures me, her eyes trying to meet mine. It feels wrong to look her in the eye, as if I’ve been taught not to. “No one will harm you here.”

 “I don’t know…” The words get stuck in my throat.

 “What is it you don’t know?” Kattie remains calm, but I jump slightly as her hand touches my arm. “What happened?”

 “Who I am?” I manage to whisper, surprised she hears me.

 “Not at all?” Worry deepens in her expression. “We found you by the forest. You were injured. We cared for your injuries as best we could.”

 I don’t remember the forest or how I got injured.

 KC returns with a bottle of water and some bread. As he sits down, he hands Kattie a syringe filled with a clear liquid. The sight of the needle sends a chill through me.

 “I think we need something stronger,” Kattie says, setting the syringe aside. “The injuries run deeper than we assumed.”

 “Do you want me to get Tjeck?” KC asks, looking at me with concern, then adds hesitantly, “Or Adis?”

 “Has he returned?” Kattie asks, glancing at the wall. Is she angry?

 “Yeah, he tumbled into bed a couple of hours ago. Not looking good,” KC admits before leaving the room. Kattie closes her eyes and hangs her head.

 “I’m sorry if I’m any bother,” I mumble, afraid to speak too loudly.

 “It isn’t your fault,” Kattie replies without opening her eyes. “It’s just been a very hard 24 hours.” She tries to smile reassuringly, but even I can see it’s half-hearted. “Are you in pain?” she asks more gently, finally opening her eyes.

 “A bit.” It’s a significant understatement, especially as I eye the needle on the chair.

 “I just need to go talk to Adis, okay?” She gently places a hand on my arm. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She gets off the bed and leaves me alone. I glance at the needle again, but whether from pain or fear, I don’t dare to touch it.

 Instead, I reach for the bread, breaking off small bites and eating it slowly. I am hungry, even if part of me doesn’t want to admit it.

 When Kattie returns, she has another person with her. This man is clearly older than KC and Kattie, probably around thirty. He has black hair, with a stray curl falling onto his forehead. He wears the same kind of pants as KC, but his chest is bare. He, too, has the S tattoo on his arm, along with another tattoo on the left side of his neck.

 I can’t help but stare at his upper body. He is slim and well-muscled, with more scars than I can count. There’s something fascinating about him. Dark circles lie under his eyes, and his gaze is unsteady, as if he’s very tired and struggling to focus.

 Then his gaze lands on me.

 His eyes are a peculiar mix of green and blue, but right now they darken with intensity.

 He doesn’t say anything before sitting down at the edge of my bed. Kattie keeps her distance, arms crossed, watching him with a guarded expression. Is she scared of him?

 I definitely don’t trust him.

 "My name is Adis," he says in a friendly yet firm voice. "I am the leader of The Shadows, and as long as you are here, you are under my protection." I want to ask what The Shadows are and where 'here' is, but I don’t dare speak. He is both intimidating and attractive. 

 "Kattie says you have lost your memory." It's not a question.

 I nod, and even though I know it will hurt, I try once again to sit up. He quickly leans forward to support me, and I stop breathing when he touches me. But the moment passes, and he withdraws.

 "I have to run some tests before I give you the painkillers," he says softly. "I promise to be very gentle." He leans closer, placing his fingers on my temples. "Please tell me if anything hurts or feels sore."

 I struggle to concentrate as his fingers trail down the sides of my neck and around the back. At one spot, a shock runs through my entire body, making me jump. In reflex, my hand flies up to hit his chest, and I can’t help but blush as I quickly pull it away.

 "I had to check if your reactions were normal," he says apologetically, ignoring my embarrassment. He steps back and takes a small flashlight from his pocket, shining it toward my eyes. "You don’t seem to have a concussion. I can’t find anything that would explain your memory loss."

 "What about asking Tjeck or Kress?" Kattie suggests.

 "I will. I will," Adis replies, though his gaze remains fixed on me.  Something about his look has changed; it feels hungry, almost predatory. "But first, we need to ensure our guest is comfortable." He pulls another syringe from one of his pockets, revealing a bluish liquid. "This will alleviate the pain and help you sleep," he explains as he prepares the needle. "Do you have a name you’d like us to call you until we know your real one?"

 "Adis!" Kattie’s voice is warning, but Adis ignores her.

 "What do you think of the name Amber?" he asks. I barely have time to react before Kattie storms out of the room, slamming another door behind her. 

 "Ignore her," he says, gripping my hand as he slowly lowers the needle to my skin. 

 "It’s a nice name," I reply. What else can I say? It won’t matter much to me what they call me. He smiles as he presses down the piston, and his smile is the last thing I see before sleep claims me.