Solve Me

(14), In Which Promises Are Made

Waking up was the worst part.

Lily's head pounded, causing her to groan softly. When she reached up to clutch her head, however, her arms stopped before they were halfway there. She looked down, squinting through the darkness to see that there were ropes tying her hands and feet to the floor. Heaving a great sigh, the brunette's head fell back against the wall she was leaning against. Her legs still had a bit of slack so she pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them. She couldn't see anything. The room was completely dark. Her head was throbbing with pain, and she was getting colder by the second. As far as she could tell, there were no windows. There dad to be a door, she thought, but she could hardly see an inch in front of her face, let alone a possible doorway.

She groaned, fumbling around with a pebble she has found. Her hair was messy, and sticky. She could feel how filthy she was without even having to look, and she was hoping against hope that it was all just dirt and sweat.

The white-hot pain whenever she moved her torso told her otherwise. She concentrated hard, trying to figure out exactly where she had been before she woke up here, and how she had gotten here in the first place. The last thing she remembered was a face.

The face of someone she was sure she knew, but couldn't remember exactly how she knew. Her head hurt worse the more she thought about it, but she was determined to jog her fuzzy memory.

The face in question was that of a man's. It was somewhat long, and pale with splashes of freckles. His eyes were a striking blue, with a peculiar dark blue spot just near his pupil. He had wild, messy black hair and a calm, collected expression. Framing his face were a pair of rectangular black glasses. 

After what Lily estimated as about three days had passed, she decided she liked thinking about the man. She wanted desperately to put a name to his face, but alas, she was at a loss. Every day, twice a day, she would fall asleep at the same time. When she woke up, there would be food. A piece of bread, some water, and a bit of fruit. Usually an apple.

Lily soon discovered that she hated apples.

Often, the girl would wake up with new places hurting. For example, once her side stopped burning, it would be her shoulder. Once it wasn't her shoulder anymore it would be her foot or her ankle. However, her head always had that dull ache, though it had seemed to center around the back in one spot in particular.

She never did see a light. Not even in the first two weeks of being there. She could never tell when it was day, or when it was night, but she assumed that the food came in the morning and in the evening. The whole situation was extremely disorienting. Lily had no memory of why she was there, who it was that had put her there, or who the mysterious man was. She spent a lot of time thinking about him. Sometimes she would talk aloud to herself. She had enough common sense to know that this was often seen as a strange thing to do, but when you've been cut off from reality for a week or two you find that you'll do anything to just hear something.

"So... I've been here for who knows how long. I hate the fact that I can't remember how I got here. I remember my parents, I remember wanting to live in America, and I remember getting on the boat, but that's it. I don't even know if I ever made it." She paused, a thought coming to mind. It made her head hurt even worse than it usually did. 

"Am I dead? Did the ship sink, and this is just... Hell, or something?" She pondered for a moment, looking around. Well, not really looking, as the darkness was blotting out everything. She sighed, kicking at the ground with her heels. The boredom had set in long ago. She knew she was missing something. She knew she wouldn't be dead. Something was telling her she was alive. Maybe it was the pounding in her head, maybe it was the image she held of that man. Maybe it was that itching feeling in the back of her head that told her she was forgetting something, or someone, other than how she got here or who put her in the room.