Bloody Souvenirs

Chapter 1

My mind was blank, like the unused canvas of an artist suffering from artist's block. Crisp, white, and blank.

It is in human nature to prefer the things that are familiar. A person feels safe in the company of people he knows and in surroundings that are not foreign to him. The human brain is wired that way.

But what will happen if a person suddenly wakes up in a strange, uninviting room with not a familiar face in sight? Disoriented, confused and frightened are some of the words that come to mind. Well, let me tell you it is a lot more overwhelming than that. And I found out the hard way.

My head was pounding, a piercing ache that, it felt, literally threatened to split my skull apart. I was awake, I knew that, but my eyes were refusing to open. There was not a sound to be heard except the ringing in my ears. Like I said, my mind was completely blank. I couldn't recall a single thing. What happened? Where could I possibly be right now?

As I forced my eyes open, the harsh white light blinded me for a second, making my head hurt even more. It took a while for me to get adjusted to it but when I did, I could see that I was staring at the white ceiling of a room. Looking around, I could see the room was completely white and spotless, with some chairs on one side of the bed I was lying on and a small table with various kinds of medicines and syringes on the other. A hospital room. It finally clicked.

There was a bandage wrapped from just above my eyes to all the way to the back of my head and back. Judging from the splitting headache I was feeling, I guess I had hit my head pretty hard. But when? And how? And where?

After laying there, motionless, for who knows how long, I willed myself to sit up. But just as I tried, a strong wave of nausea hit me. I closed my eyes again, taking deep steady breaths as I tried to negotiate with my nausea. When I opened my eyes for the second time, there was a nurse standing at the door, a clipboard in her hand. When she saw me, her eyes widened and she ran off, presumably to call someone.

A few minutes later, a middle aged man in a doctor's coat came into the room accompanied by two nurses.

"Ah, I see you've woken up, Miss Winters." he said as one of the nurses started to check me.

"Who-" I tried to speak but it came out merely as a whisper. So I cleared my throat and tried again, "Who are you?"

"I'm Dr. Whittaker, your doctor, Miss Winters." he replied matter-of-factly, probably seeing my face, which was a mask of pure confusion.

I raised a brow, "Who's Miss Winters?"

This time, it was his turn to look confused. "Why, that's your name." he said, "You are Katelyn Winters."

I shook my head, "I don't know any Katelyn."

He was silent for a while, then sighed finally, "I see. Then what do you perceive your name is?"

I pondered his question for a while. My name? What is my name? Why can't I remember it? Everybody has a name, surely I must have one too.

"I'm sorry doctor, but I can't remember." I said, sighing in defeat. "Do you mind telling me where I am?"

He pursed his lips, "You're in the Greenwich District Hospital. You had hit your head somewhere and had a concussion."

"A concussion?" my eyes widened, "How long have I been out?"

"One whole day. A young man brought you here. Don't you remember anything?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"W-who?" I stuttered. My head was literally and figuratively spinning. I had hit my head, that much I had already figured out. But how? Who brought me here? And who is this Katelyn that the Whittaker fellow is talking about? More importantly, what is my name?