Missing Pieces of Me

1 A Puzzling Room Tour

I tried moving around but I still can't. I can control my hands but they still feel trapped. It was like I was cocooned in something. I'm still afraid that there is still something waiting for me but I can't stay like this for a long time waiting so I slowly open my eyes, first the left then I saw that the coast is clear and then I opened my right eye.

I looked around. I was in a small room, a bedroom, cocooned safely in my warm fuzzy blanket. Gone were the shed and the terrifying creature waiting for me. That was a really weird dream. I want to sleep and be comfy but all I get was a very stressful one.

I tried to remember everything but all I can remember is blood, panic, and falling. What a great way to start a day! With groggy eyes, I released myself from my soft, non-threatening, and comfy prison made of cotton and sat up.

Damn. My eyes are still blurry. I'm sure I wasn't wearing any glasses in my dream. Maybe it was contacts. I shake my head and grabbed my glasses from the pouch hanging beside my bed and wiped the lenses before putting them on.

This is my room. I blinked and still, the horrors came back. I suddenly thought of all the blood. I removed the blanket expecting to see my clothes soaked in sticky red fluid but all I see is my pink pajamas. Was I the type to wear pink? A realization hit me: What's my name?

I laughed. Am I the type to party so hard that I'm a huge mess afterwards? Was I so wasted last night that I forget my own name? I examine myself in a nearby mirror. Nope, I just looked like a ghost with my pale skin, round chubby face, and bloodshot raccoon yet small eyes that can seem to pierce through anything if I look hard enough.

It looks like I pulled an all-nighter. This is a killer hangover. I tried to picture myself and thought of possible names. Charlie? Amy? Clara? Alex? Nope I'm drawing a blank but the Alex sounds very familiar. It's like that name has always been called by my brain. I check what looked like a closet in hopes of having a quick jog to my memory.

It was blue, has two doors with handles that open outward and when you open it, a light opens up automatically to reveal a wide range of clothing, from jackets to sweaters to graphic tees, which only seems to belong in a single color palette: a mix of black and red clothes greeted me, black and red shirts, black and red jackets, black jeans, and red skirts. It looks colorful yet dull. Like there was no other pattern of colors than those two.

The weird thing is, if it was a whole different wardrobe, both of these colors would be noticeable but seeing everything being in these two colors only makes it dull. I'm beginning to think these aren't mine. I was going to close it when I noticed a jacket. It was the only one in a different color. It was a white jacket embroidered with a name Blanche.

Just like that, all the memories came crashing down on my brain. It made my head spin so much that I had to sit in the closet. The nice part about this closet is that I can sit in it, it is a tight fit but I do remember now that I used to hide in here. It feels nice and comfy, much like a secret hiding spot, away from the world and stuck in my own little world.

I groped around, much like an instinct, and tried to find the secret drawer for my comic books. It's still here. This is the only place where my brain can constantly stay relaxed and say that it truly is a safe place, a place where I can truly release my inner secrets with only myself as my witness. I grabbed my pillow and blanket and climbed inside, snuggling myself in the comfort.

I grab my jacket again and stare at my name. It's mine. My name is Blanche Scarlett. I like it but I have to admit, it's a BS name. Get it? I like introducing myself like that. When I was a kid I always thought that it was a fun coincidence how it's both colors and how my initials always spell because my mind was immature, it still is.

As I grew older, the blankness of my name has been the constant reminder of how my life has been the constant struggle to find a way to make my existence important. Even my name is somehow related to the concept of nothingness. The memory of my ever changing personality has returned. The permanent blank page which is my life, the never ending search for something to make myself be remembered as someone. It is an unusual name to begin with and I want to be as unusual just like it.

I glanced to a wall near my bed. It has a bunch of numbers written. Then I saw that these are in the Fibonacci sequence. When I was young, I got a little obsessed with the Fibonacci sequence. It was a sort of mantra, just adding all numbers and getting bigger and bigger numbers to the point where I can get 25 digits for one number.

Soon you tend to forget that they are all individual numbers because they seem to just be a straight line with assortment of random numbers. I managed to get a lot of combinations but I have never gotten a number with three sixes next to each other in one number. I managed to reach maybe the 300th number now.

As far back as I could remember that I have been obsessed with numbers. I use it for everything. Numbers help me see a pattern in everyday life which can be purely coincidental or intended. I live by these patterns. For some reason, these numbers are able to speak to me without even actual words or codes. I can see stories in a sequence of numbers that only my mind can see without any explanation. I can just make it up in my head.

Because of this, I was not very communicative with those people outside my comfort zone, which is pretty much everyone. It isn't because I was treated badly, although some do provide a daily dose of snide remarks which I just let slide because I was stuck in my own world, it was because it was hard for me to make someone understand the connections.

Imagine trying to explain how numbers can just tell you things. It is much like learning a language that only you can understand and trying to find a single person who can speak it too. Every time I try, they all looked at me with blank eyes and nod along. As I grew older, I stopped explaining this to everyone I get close to. I maintained a shield of being "normal" so as to fit in a social group.

I was fine with this. I grew up much like most kids, studying my lessons, having my ups and downs. I wasn't the type to have a huge group of friends. I just need one, I'm already lucky if I find just one. Even with one, I try my best to maintain a stable friendship where we can talk for hours but I still feel myself longing for the sweet release of someone's company and being with just myself.

Eventually, all my "friends" leave, saying things like "I don't feel like a friend to you" or "We're supposed to be friends but it's been a week since we last hung out or even communicated". I'm neither mad nor sad at their decision for cutting ties. I just want to be a friend to those who need a friend.

I was still lost in thought when I was interrupted by a gentle knock. My senses tingled again. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. Was the dream not over yet? How could it follow me? The knocking continues but it was now more forceful.

"I know you're still in there! Open the freaking door or I will tear it apart piece by piece," said the voice.

"No! Leave me alone," I yelled back, against my better judgement. I shouldn't have said anything. Now, he's gonna know I'm here. I still feel dizzy and not in the mood for any interaction with people. I don't even remember who's at the door.

"You can't stay in there all day. You need to at least eat something."

I remember that voice. I tried to find something, anything I can use as a weapon but I don't think this version of me has any thought about self-defense. I stood up from inside the closet and closed the doors as quietly as possible. Hopefully he'll go away if he can't find me. I sat inside the closet and covered myself with the blanket. I ready my pillow as a weapon in case he finds me.

I hear the doorknob turn. Then the door creaking. Then the footsteps, pacing around my room. I smile crept on my face and hold my breath...