Blackout. [COMPLETED]

Deja Vu.

Contains mild language

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"But how can you not know who you are?" David asked, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"I don't know," I snapped. I was as frustrated as he was, if not more. 

"How are we supposed to find out?" he said unenthusiastically; it was all beginning to sound hopeless. I shook my head and bit my nails, shrugging. 

"Well, I know where that cult was situated, I can take you back there?" he suggested.

"No, they aren't there anymore. I remember they had to leave."

"You remember?" David asked, leaning forward. I nodded.

"Only that, though. And a girl with really long hair," I answered, twirling a piece of my own hair between my fingers.

"And what about the hospital?" he said, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Maybe there's a label on the overall." He stood up and walked into the bedroom, and reappeared with the gown draped over his arm. He threw it towards me and I examined the neckline.

I stared down at the label, trying to make sense of the faded words which were obscured by the fraying edges. 

"Oh, oh no," I muttered, feeling a tightening in my stomach. I suddenly felt very claustrophobic.

"What?" David snatched the gown from my arms and looked closely at the label. "Oh."

I looked out through the window and saw clouds had creeped through to cover the clear sky and the light was dimmed. I looked down at the book in front of me, tracing my fingers over the leather.

"I was in an asylum," I choked. "That can't be right. I'm not mental."

 "How did you get out?" he asked me. 

"How did I get in?!" I replied, standing up from my chair and pacing the room.

Other than the shuffling of my feet on the floor, the room was silent for a very long time. I could remember the feeling of the straps around my legs and chest and I could feel the throbbing in the side of my head all over again.

Without knowing what to do, I quickly walked into the library and ran my fingers over the spines of the books as I searched for something, anything, about asylums. Finally, my eyes rested on a small book on the bottom shelf. It listed every mental asylum all over the world, with famous patients and doctors beneath each name.

"Which one did I go to?" I asked myself, flicking through the pages.

"It says here that you went to," David squinted, staring down at the label. "Hellingly Asylum."

I looked at him and raised my eyebrow. He shrugged.

"Sounds appealing," I muttered. He smiled.  After looking in the index, I found the right page. The asylum was huge and incredibly daunting. It looked nothing like an asylum, it was too magestic and beautiful. It looked more like a place that members of the royal family would live, not the mentally unstable and the insane.

"We should check it out." David looked down at the intimidating picture of the asylum and bit down on his lip.

"I can't go, they'll recognise me and realise I ran away."

"I'm not going alone," he said desperately. "We'll pretend I'm your psychiatrist and I took you out for some reason. They might not even notice. They might not even ask."