Blackout. [COMPLETED]

Research.

"Dont be frightened," a voice said to me as I sat up abruptly. I looked over to him as he kneeled down beside me and then examined my surroundings. I was on a little, purple couch. The room was small, although perhaps it only appeared that way because every available space on the walls was filled by a large, thick book case. Each shelf had as many books that could possibly fit onto it, as well as even more books in large piles in the corners of the room. 

"Who are you?" I asked suspiciously, noticing the tattoo on my arm. "No offence."

"I'm David, uh, I saved your life," he said quietly, running his hand through his hair.

"Oh, wow, thank you," I replied. I knew I ought to be aware of this so I had no idea what to say. "Who tattooed me?" I asked, eager to change the subject. 

"Well, as far as I know, you were in this warehouse where a sort of cult is situated." 

I raised my eyebrows, looking down at the tattoo again.

"You told me some people had taken care of you, but then you were pulled away. I found you in a car park, with tape over your mouth. I think they thought you were part of the cult, but it's pretty obvious that they just found you. It's easy to tell who they are, and you aren't one of them. As far as I can tell."

I nodded and pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I felt so lost. My mind felt empty, being filled with loose information from a stranger. I didn't know whether to believe him or not, what if he was the bad guy? What if all of this was a lie? How could I know who to trust?

"You can trust me," he said sympathetically, noticing my wariness. He patted my knee and got up. He walked towards a bookshelf and squeezed himself through the only gap between the shelves in the entire room, and disappeared through a small door. 

I got up to look through some of the books that he had. Ancient mythology, several books on religion, books on anatomy, medicine and first aid, herbalism, hunter-gathering guides and some fiction, as well as dictionaries, French vocab and encyclopoedias.

"Do you want a drink?" he called through from the other room. I walked towards the gap in the bookshelf and pulled myself through. The room I was in was incredible. It was as small, if not smaller, than the 'library', but it was so intricately decorated and beautiful.

"Water please," I asked, stroking my hand across the velvet-lined walls. He looked over at me and smiled.

"Can I trust you?" I asked. He shrugged.

"I'm not good at keeping secrets," he said laughing. I smiled and looked away.

"I need you to help me find out who I am before I blackout again," I said nervously, cautious of how he'd respond.

"You black out a lot, then?" he replied, blowing on his cup of coffee to cool it down. 

"I think so." I sat down on a large, red, silk arm chair. The soft, cool material felt relaxing against my skin and I took tender sips of my water.

"How often do you have them?" He sat on a similar chair opposite me, crossing his legs and resting the cup on his knee. 

"I'm not sure, often enough. I saw you have a lot of books and maybe you know something about my condition. I'm afraid I can't really help you out, though. All I know is that I'm in one place at one point, then within a second I'm somewhere else. It's like segments of my memory just disappear, and I turn up in random places."

"So you remember the cult?"

After a while, I remembered a vague image of the girl with long hair and the boy with the beard. I nodded.