Amnesia

I opened my eyes to a hot, dark room, my vision and mind is fuzzy and I struggle to piece anything together. I attempt to lift my hands to rub my eyes but something restricts my movement, my hands are hand cuffed to a metal table. My hand drops onto the cool metal sending shivers up my spine, now that I think about it, my back hurts a lot too. My vision begins to clear up, I notice a large metal door on my right, the door has one small window on it with glass thick enough to be bulletproof. As far as I can tell, I'm chained to a table in a dark, humid room, my back hurts and so does my ass and my memory is completely blank. What happened last night, was my immediate thought, I couldn't remember anything. Who was I anyway? I can't remember anything about everything. I should have been scared, perhaps even screaming, but it's hard to be scared when you know nothing, even fear itself. I hear metal rattling and my eyes dart to the door, the lock is moving and the door handle slides down a few seconds later. A man in a black and white suit walks into the room, the sounds of his footsteps are sharp and rhythmic, I remain still with a cool face, not that I knew any other face to use. The man pulls up a chair which was across me at the table and sits down, "My name is Tyrell Anthony, you can address me as detective Anthony or just detective." He's accent is odd, perhaps foreign, he sounded educated and unmerciful. "Detective?", I tried to say, it came out as more of a croak then words, the detective immediately stood up and opened the door to my right, I was too busy coughing to pay this too much attention, the door closed and I received a bottle of water from the detective, "Drink this" he said in his cool, ruthless voice. I quickly unscrewed the cap and downed half the bottle, I stopped for a few seconds only to continue to drink more right after. "Murder sure makes you thirsty doesn't it.", said the detective, this time he spat out the words, he sounded disgusted just mentioning it. His statement took me by surprise, I inhaled some water and choked, I spilled the remaining contents of the bottle on the table as I banged my chest with my right fist, desperately trying to regain my breath. The detective continued as soon as I stopped, "What's wrong? The truth too much for you Quintus?". As soon as he said Quintus I felt a sharp pain from my head, I slammed my head on the table and grabbed it with both hands and screamed. Images and voices rushed through my head, I heard a woman's voice saying Quintus, she looked straight at me and smiled. Me, I am Quintus, I heard a voice as well, "You'll do great things", said the voice. Tears were now protruding from the corner of my eyes, then it all just stopped. The pain stopped, the voices and the screaming, my screaming. I looked up and saw the detective now standing, there were two men in blue on his right, they held batons and had guns in their holsters. These were cops, their thick blue vests had SAPD written on them, "I'm okay", I said. This seemed to get everyone in the room to relax. The cops left the room and Anthony sat down again, he coughed and looked me in the eyes, he looked like he was investigating me right there and then. "Who are you, your full name?", he asked me, I answered, "Quintus, Quintus... Uhm... Quintus" I desperately tried to remember my last name but it was hopeless. The detective sighed and wiped his brow with the back of his hand, "Just as I thought, amnesia". The detective pulled out a document from his suit and placed it on the table, he ripped it open in front of me and spilled its contents onto the table. My eyes darted across all the content, pictures, letters, phones, this was a collection of information, my information specifically, who was that girl in the pictures with me though? She smiled and clinged onto my arm in every picture, we smiled and kissed in some of the images. This was my girlfriend, damn did I score big time, I immediately shook my head and tried to focus, this was serious, that was a big mistake. I received another head ache and this time I controlled myself. I didn't scream but I placed my head upon the cool metal of the table and bit my tongue, I tasted blood in my mouth and a throbbing pain on my tongue. "Tarry", was all I could say when this fit was done, the detective shifted in his seat and coughed, "Yes, the name of your victim", he said in his unique voice. I felt more tears coming out of my eyes and I lay there on the table, motionless. "So I take it you remember now", said the detective as he browsed through the pictures, I looked at my hands and noticed something I hadn't before, my hands had red dry lines on them. This was blood, Tarry's blood, it continued up to my shoulders, I could feel it. "Just one question, why did you do it?", said the detective, he didn't seem as calm and collected as before, he's right hand was balled into a fist and his left had three pictures. The first was of me kissing Tarry's cheek while she laughed, the second one was of Tarry holding a sign saying 'Till death do us part'. I was behind her with my hands on her shoulders, the third picture was a sick one. Tarry's body lay on the floor lifeless, she was lacking all the skin on her chest area and over her stomach as well. She was no doubt dead but that's not what caught my immediate attention, looking at the picture, I saw myself asleep next to Tarry's body, her heart was in my hand and her skin wrapped around me like a blanket. The detective had tears rolling down his face and I was about ready to throw up, "Why did you do it?", said the detective, he's voice was shaky and he looked angry. I was drawing blanks, I couldn't remember why I could have done this or when I did it. I frantically looked at the pictures and I froze at the second picture. Something at the corner of that picture made me uneasy. I saw a man in a black and white suit, he was smiling and looked foreign, now that I thought about it, Tarry looked foreign as well. I stared at the pictures, I was flooded by memories and emotions I had forgotten, I remembered everything. The detective slammed his fist on the table, "Why'd you do it, Quintus! Why did you kill my daughter!?", he was furious, foaming even. He touched his top pocket and produced a knife, I tried to jump back but forgot I was chained down. The psychotic look on the detectives face as he took slow steps toward me froze me in place, I couldn't even scream, eventually he reached me. The last words I ever heard were from a father who loved his daughter more than anything, a father who had had her ripped away from him by a mentally unstable boy, a father who wanted revenge. Just before plunging his knife into my neck, the detective had said, "An eye for an eye".