I do not know what this is...
Or even do I know who I am...
I am chained with pain as the same as the cold metal constricted to me. My head... Aagh!
Why is this even happening. Too much questions with no response, It keeps my head twitching against the bricked, crimson walls.
I see light. Only bit of it. Every breath causes screeching pain and annoying marks of memories in my head. None recognizable but the faces of my beloved parents. It's cold. I can see the frosted glow of my own breath. I am covered in somewhat of liquid, not water. Am I? Is it blood? My memory tells it is. My hunger kills me every moment, I'd rather die. I'd rather die...
The door screeched open, I heard it. I heard it because I was too tired to see. The sight was blurry but with a flash of light and red. "That!" A manly voice echoed across the hellhalls. "That's her!" He shouted once more and pressured my ear. My ear turned silence blank. Nothing could be worse, or maybe except being lifted up and dragged against the floor. Everything turned out just like that.
They dropped me like that piece of trash I used to throw every Wednesday. In fact I remembered that a while ago.
I came in to the light were they sent me. I faced the mirror we passed slowly. It opened my mind to some wonders. Wonders like how I look. "I am.. a girl." I said harshly with my dry throat. "Yes you are." A man with checkered, long-sleeve, red polo came to my back. He was probably the flash of red awhile ago. He pushed my chin the other way.
"What's your name?" He asked gently while looking into some papers he held. I tried to know the answer bit by bit but still at square one. I held my throat dry but still firm.
"I.. I don't know." He laughed softly like a villain I used to watch on my television. By the way, I remember that time too well. "Seriously, what's your name?" He asked once more.
"I DON'T KNOW." The man is puzzled.
"Ok. I am Detective Charles. I will be your personal bodyguard until you grow your memory back. But I know I can't communicate much with you not having a name. Since then, your name will be Mina."
Mina, a nice name. Is it? I know it is.
"Clean her up." The doctor said. They pulled me harshly into their own cleaning room and washed me roughly through my own blood-covered skin. After our conversation, I died in hell for a while.
