The Roanoke Project.

Chapter One: I Remember Nothing.

My name is Jessica Roanoke.
No.
My name is Susanna Doyle-Scott. It always was. Will always be. And will be my name for the rest of time.
I remember Nothing.
I remember everything.
I will tell no-one.
My friends know.
I don't have any.
I am the new girl.
I am.
I am.
I am.

"Who are you?"

A bright light with a particular hum. A man in a suit. My hands with chipped nail varnish at the fingertips, wrapped around my shaking figure.

"Jess-Susanna."

I correct myself. That is not my name according to the man in a suit who's name is still unknown to me. I begin to question if witness protection was right. Then again, would I really want to have the fear that every time I go out, I die? Suit-man gives an angry look.

"Who are you."

He says that with a non questioning tone, leading me to believe that he is already tired after only asking one question, albeit mightily important to my future which I am very ignorant to at the time, even though I knew I shouldn't be.

"My name is Susanna Doyle-Scott."

I say that confidently, trying my hardest not to sound reluctant, which is what I am. He nods, before shuffling around his files that were previously on the steel table, which are now in his hands. Mr Suit looks at me again, and asks:

"How old are you, Susanna?"

"I am 15."

I find it contradicting that being in court and police affairs often involves truth, I am violating that law with every answer. This is who I am now. A 15 year old from Manchester who moved across the pond, who has a granny name. God I hate how they chose Susanna...they could've chosen something better like...Ashley or Lisa...Olivia or Francesca. I've always favourited them names, I never knew why. They just...stuck. I eventually snap out of my trance of thinking about FAR better names when he questions me further.

"Why did you move?"

"...My relatives."

I paused and forgot the reason. There is, to me, far too much to remember, I hear another frustrated sigh from Mr Suit, I am also getting somewhat frustrated. I can't tell whether it is at myself, or at him.

"What about your relatives?"

I conclude he is most defiantly angry now, he said that in what can be described as a low, menacing tone. He was about to lose it. I try to hide a smirk as I think of him getting so angry he does something unbelievable...like throws the table across the room or punches the wall. These, of course, are all completely far-fetched. I quickly have a lightbulb moment as I remember the fake reason, and answer swiftly.

"My great grandmother on my...Dad's side passed...and she was from Ohio, She gave us her house in her will."

I can tell he relaxes a bit after I explain, I am somewhat disappointed that something crazy doesn't happen. I mean if it did, it's not like I could tell anyone. That would put the whole point of the witness protection system in jeopardy. For all I know, I could end up losing my life. A bit like a butterfly effect, a really dramatic one. Suit man loses it so I lose my life? What a story to tell in Heaven.

"I think your all set. Legally, I need to reiterate the terms again before you are erased from the system, and gone from the country."

Ominous.

"You are never to speak of what you witnessed, or who you were. You erase all photos off of any devices depicting you before the incident. The Government have taken down all public photos ever containing you, and have made fake ones to replace the real ones on your phone. You know your backstory, your name, your age, all crucial things. This interaction and any others with figures of authority have never existed, including this one. You are free to go. I wish you best of luck on your new life, Susanna."

END OF CHAPTER ONE.

Thanks so much for reading! - Layla