Amnesia

1. My Name

"Alex."

If you would ask me right now who I am. My sole response would be Alex.
Nothing more, nothing less. If you then would be curious enough to ask me why, why am I just 'Alex'? My response would be, I don't know.

A name, my name, is all I can remember before waking up in that moldy, abandoned warehouse. A natural response to this situation would probably be crying, screaming, some more crying and then acceptance.
Acceptance that my former life no longer exists for me and all there currently to me is, Alex-who-just-woke-up-in-a-moldy-warehouse-and-only-knows-her-own-name.

Somehow, this situation felt like karma to me. I wasn't scared, angry or even happy. I don't know where this apathy came from, but I embraced it.

Roughly two hours passed before I got up from my ever so cosy spot on the floor. The molds surrounding me were getting on my nerves. But the molds were not bugging me as much as the nagging pain that coursed through my whole body.

"Shit."

I nearly jumped of surprise when I heard my own voice. It was like hearing someone else's voice through my own mouth. Grasping my throat, I softly whispered;

"Alex."

So this is my voice, probably lower than your average female voice and slightly raspy. The raspiness could be a side affect from my dry throat. My thirst was getting on my nerves as well.

I sat in silence, the grave problem I was in slowly dawning upon me.

I cried. I cried until there were no tears left to shed and I laughed until I lost my voice. From another person's perspective I might've seemed mad. Who am I to deny them? I don't even know who I am.

Except for my name.

What probably kept me from completely falling into insanity, was my name. The fact that I remembered what I was called in my previous life meant that not everything is lost, yet. There should still be a way to go back.

And that was when I stood up.

...

Bad move. Bad move.

As soon as I got to my feet the world started spinning around me. The headache I had before proved me wrong when I thought that a headache worse than this couldn't possibly exist. My vision blurred and black spots started to pop up.

Shit. Shit.

Before I knew what was happening, I was already emptying the content of my stomach in a very unfortunate box which was unlucky enough to be the closest to me at the time.

When I was done, the repulsive odor that the box now emitted almost made me puke again. With a feeble kick against the box, I tried to distance myself from the unbearable smell.

I don't think I've ever been so disgusted before. I know I just woke up with zero memories, but that smell was just unbelievable.

Oh my god I can smell it from here.

With unsteady steps, I walked over to another stack of boxes and settled down onto one. I didn't bother checking wether it was dirty or not. I had been laying on that filthy floor for God knows how long, so what did a couple of extra molds and dust particles mean to me?

"Ow!"

Another bad move.

Mental note to self; always check what you're going to sit on.

My fingers slid under my butt, flinching when they touched the cold metal of the mysterious object.
Slowly, I grasped it and brought it up to my face.

A watch?