Amnesia, Book 1: A Girl Lost In The Woods

<Dahlia> Chapter V: A Little Girl Lost In The Woods

Eden, Population 107, Location Unknown

June 20th, 20:00 4 Hours Until The End

“You know what you have to do,” the guilty air above her echoed with contempt.

LILAH.

They’d set her free in her dark cell, where ashes stained your eyes and cut your breath short, and the wail of pain and anguish rang in your ears. It wasn’t as loud as it’d been at first—maybe she’d just learned to cope—but it still preyed at the back of every thought.

LILAH.

They’d let her out of the chair for the first time in… how long could it be, when you didn’t need to eat or sleep? How long wasn’t even a concept she understood anymore.

LILAH.

Shadows pulled at the corners of her eyes. Every minute, every hour felt the same. Time didn’t matter in here, where she had an eternity of mind-breaking sameness, only punctuated by the voice that crackled orders above her. She longed to hear the voice—even though she loathed its owner—just because it was something.

LILAH.

“You know what you have to do,” it repeated in a static-filled rasp.

LILAH.

She eyed the knife in front of her; the one they’d left on the desk on purpose.

It felt cold and smooth and heavy in her hands. This was right…

She knew what she had to do. She had to make amends. She had to atone. Maybe they wouldn’t blame her anymore…

LILAH. LILAH. LILAH!

She held the knife to her stomach… Anything was better than this…

Dahlia woke in a freezing sweat to a rapping on her window.

A searing flash of light tore through the darkened sky. She was alert instantly. She fought through the fading pain in her stomach and back. She slipped out of bed and pulled on her nightgown, then grabbed the heavy iron poker fromt the fireplace. She knew it was cliché and probably not much good, but she didn’t have anything better on hand.

She took a deep breath.

She was ready for them.

But where were they?

Dahlia crept up to the window warily. At first she thought it was just a branch bobbing against the glass; the wind whipped restlessly through the trees and the fields outside. And the noise had stopped.

Maybe she’d dreamt it? She turned away slowly, just as a distant shimmer of light caught her eye.

Red.

Yellow.

Indigo.

A gold and blue duet.

Fireworks. That’s what had woken her. She sighed and tried to shake the adrenaline out of her system. Of course there’d be fireworks—wasn’t that Festival tonight? She guessed they were already starting. She walked back over to the fireplace and threw the poker in after her second ruined dress.

Dahlia loved fireworks. Those were happier days: New Year’s with her father and sister. He’d buy sparkling sticks for them to play with on the lawn. They’d dance and write their names and watch the local display overhead until they fell asleep and their father carried them inside.

Dahlia sighed at the memory—which, the more she thought about it, didn’t make any sense.

She didn’t have a sister.