NAMELESS

DAY TWO

I am conscious. I open my eyes. I am in a small, white room. My white room. So empty. I want to get out. I sit up again. My head starts pounding again. What happened? I remember. Who is the man with the brown eyes? Did I make him sad?

I turn to face the mirror.

Who am I? I look scared. I am scared. There is something I don't know, something important. I have a large wound on my head. I know that head wounds can cause memory loss. I cannot remember anything before yesterday, yet I am a matured human being. So I must have lived before yesterday. Surely.

So what happened? Was I attacked? The wound is too messy to be surgical. Am I a victim? But surely if I were a victim I would not be in this prison. Is this a prison? She called me a patient. Does that mean this is a hospital? Why has my voice been stolen? The silence is unnerving. I don't think life is supposed to be like this.

I try to stand. My vision starts to dim and the ground starts spinning. I decide to sit.

My door opens. It is the woman in white. The first woman I ever knew, since I can remember. I don't like her.

"Good morning, dear." She says with her fake smile, she has brought the chair in with her. "Let's see if you can last longer today, hey?"

I try not to scowl. I don't want to sit in the chair, it embarrasses me. I just want to be free. I want to go outside.

I stand again. My vision is clouded once again. No. I will not fall. My head is pounding. Fine. I will sit in the chair.

The fake lady smiles at me as I sit.

"There. That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

This time I make no attempt to suppress my scowl. I do not like this woman. Her face drops and she hastily retreats. Now I feel guilty.

Who am I? Am I a person who makes people sad? Am I a person who scares away people who are only trying to help? This woman has done nothing to harm me. Perhaps I should try to be less unpleasant.

I steer the chair to the doorway and turn right at the hall. I continue until I reach the room with the white tables. I am greeted by the same man as before. The first man I ever met, since I can remember.

"Welcome back." He smiles. I smile back. "I hope you're feeling better today. Let me take you to your place."

I hesitate. I scan the room for the man with the brown eyes. He is leaning against the wall, eyes on me. I quickly look away. Why is he watching me?

The first man has watched this exchange. "You are free to go where you like." He shrugs, "I think you would prefer to stay here though."

No. I would not prefer to stay here. I face my chair towards the man with the brown eyes and push forward.

My path is blocked. There are too many obstacles between the man with the brown eyes and I.

I look at the people in my way. They are all engrossed in their colouring. I look at the man with the brown eyes. He has not moved. He simply leans against the wall, watching.

He must not care. Why am I trying to get to him anyway? I don't even know him!

I give up and take my place at my table. None of the people at my table look as I approach. They are silent. Everyone is silent. The silence may drive me mad, if it has not already.

I look back at the man with the brown eyes. Is he sick? He doesn't look sick. Why is he here? He looks so sad. Did I make him sad? We continue to stare at each other, eyes locked. I want to talk to him. Why can't I talk to him? I want to scream. I want to get out of here. Who is he? Why is he watching me?

I put my hands up, helplessly. His eyebrows crease. He looks so grieved. I don't understand. I want to understand.

He can walk. If he wanted to, he could walk to me, but he doesn't. He simply watches me.

I bow my head and lift my hand to shield my eyes from him. I wish he would leave me alone.

Maybe I should try to get to him again. I look around. No. My path is blocked.

Why are there so many people in this room? And why do they sit in silence, meekly colouring in their stupid pictures. They are fools. There must be more to life than this. I need to get out of here. I can't live like this.

I look back up at the man with the brown eyes. He is still watching me. I scowl at him. He is a fool too. Why does he just stand there? Is it just to prove that he doesn't need a chair? He isn't even colouring! How has he not gone mad from boredom? I want to throw something at him. I have nothing to throw. I hate this place.

He tilts his head to the side. His eyes searching mine once more.

Go away. If you won't come to me then you should leave me alone.

I turn back to the faces around my table. They are as vacant as yesterday, engrossed in their colouring. I am alone.

I choose the colour red.