Children's Games: A Story of Modern Consequence

Chapter 1

~Jane~

"Check her for deeper injuries. Be quick about it; there are so many..."

The woman could feel the sensation of hands against her body, breaking her from her stupor. Her muscles tensed as she struggled against their expert fingers, though her body refused to move. What the hell is going on...

"I think we should wait until it's confirmed she's not a dangerous individual. We shouldn't be helping the enemy, Sanders," came a second voice to the girl's left, harsh and blunt.

The movements stopped abruptly, which allowed the woman to calm herself and focus on her muscles straining to move. Why isn't my body moving? Am I dreaming? She could feel that her body was lying down on a soft surface, but try as she might, she could not open her eyes.

"Olivia, don't be ridiculous. I don't think that train would have been carrying anyone we should be suspicious of. Too many guards. Besides, she's in rags; she's from around here." There was a long pause. "There are guards outside the door if that makes you feel better."

The hands continued their search of the woman's body, pinching and pushing at bones far beneath her skin. It wasn't until her neck was taken hold of by some ice-cold hands that she was able to jolt her body awake, snapping her eyes open to witness the scene around her.

Immediately, many strangers were in the woman's face, moving in and out of view while asking her abrupt questions about pain and identities. She heard none of it as she tried to decipher what was going on. Her heart was racing, pounding against her chest, and her head felt heavy and broken. She gripped the thin metal railings on the side of the bed to steady herself as she took in her foreign surroundings.

They wore white coats with shiny lanyards around their necks. The room was bright white with rows of hospital beds lining the walls. There must've been about 50 other beds filled with people of varying dirtiness and bloodiness. The whole room seemed to be moving... Where the hell am I?

The two who seemed to be in charge were standing at the foot of the bed, holding clipboards to their chests as if they contained the most important information. One was an older man with greying hair and metal glasses... Sanders... and the other was a middle-aged woman with curly orange hair... Olivia? They stared at her with the same apprehensive expressions as everyone else. Everything was still, though the woman could feel her head leaning sideways as it begged to fall against something.

She briefly caught sight of something dark on the bed in front of her and glimpsed the angry red bruises that were spread across her arms and chest, complimenting the shallow scratches that sliced her skin wherever she looked. She suddenly noticed a dull pain coming from her stomach and her chest felt tighter as her breath quickened. She was covered in dirt as well, as if she had just been buried in orange dust.

"Hello, I'm in charge here," said the older doctor at the foot of the bed. He had regained some of his composure and suddenly looked professional. "I'm Doctor Sanders, what's your name? Do you know where you are?"

Who am I? The girl couldn't think of anything. Where am I? She gave another quick scan of the room with uncertainty.

"Miss, can we get a name?" he repeated.

I don't know. "I can't remember."

"Can you tell us anything about yourself?" She shook her head, confused. "Do you remember what happened? How you got to attain those... injuries." His sing-song voice contrasted with the hesitation in his eyes. He looked at her expectantly.

The woman was unsure whether she should trust these people... they didn't seem to know who she was, which meant they weren't her friends, however kind they seemed to be. If they're not my friends, I cannot assume to trust them... She stared at her fidgeting fingers, shaking her head. How can I not remember?