ᴄʜᴜᴄᴋɪᴇ ▲ ʙɪʟʟ ᴄɪᴘʜᴇʀ

ᴮᴱᴳᴵᴺᴺᴵᴺᴳ

She walked through the rain trembling in her shoes. The girl was soaked to the bone, the cold water raining down from the heavens and hitting her like shards of ice.

Cars whipped past her as she slowly walked along the side of the road—eyes taking in everything around her. From either side of her, the wet desert seemed to stretch for endless miles of nothingness.

Except for, of course, the bright neon-lit diner that served as a stop for hungry truckers more often than not. But it was the first building that the girl had seen for miles.

And it offered her a spark of hope in her current cold and confused state.

The bell chimed as she walked in, water running off her and dripping onto the tile-checkered floors.

The place was not busy as it was late into the night, just an hour before closing. But it was warm and the girl found solace in the old-timey rock music playing gently from the speakers.

She could have sworn she recognized the voice singing, but no name came to mind no matter how hard she tried. Barely anything came to her mind.

The few people—all men—sitting around and eating turned their heads at the sight of the young woman. It was hard to determine an age from looks alone, to bystanders the girl could have been anywhere from her late teens to early adulthood.

She stared back, coming to the slow realization that she should take a seat in one of the booths like all these other people.

The leather seats squelched as she sat, a puddle immediately forming under her wet jeans. She sat shivering, her hair sticking to her face.

"What can I get started for ya', sweetheart?"

A woman with a kind face and name tag that read 'Sharon' stood beside her—notepad in hand.

The girl tilted her head at 'Sharon', her mind whirling to determine what her own name was. Slowly, for the first time since she had opened her eyes that night, something came to mind.

Charlotte Ray seemed to be permanently carved into the inner workings of her mind. And yes, while she knew her name to be Charlotte, something did not sit right with that phrasing.

No, no, no: she had always liked to be called...

"Chuckie." The girl suddenly looked into the eyes of the woman.

The woman looked confused.

"'M sorry, hun, what was that?"

"Chuckie..." The girl said softly, a dry smile folding her lips up. "I remember my name now—it's Chuckie..."

The waitress slowly put down her notepad, staring in concern.

"Did you not remember it before? Is anyone with you, hun?" She questioned, placing her hands on her full hips.

Chuckie remained silent for many moments—longer than what was appropriate. And finally, she opened her mouth, her big blue eyes staring at the waitress in an unnerving way.

"No..." She finally said, folding her hands together in an unnaturally formal manner. "To both of those inquiries... where am I?"