It's so cold, so dark, so wet outside. Where am I again? Oh yeah... I can't remember. Isn't it funny how amnesia works? You remember your language, how to walk, how oranges taste, but not your name, or where you live, or why you are walking half naked in the rain, in mud, in darkness and you can't tell why you somehow feel like you know someone is watching you? It looks like I am in a construction site, in a ditch. I am so dizzy, I wonder if it's from lack of food, since I feel hungry, or because of the bump on my head. So many thoughts go through my head. Was I kidnapped? Am I important somehow? Dangerous maybe? Or I just slipped and fell and wasn't found because no one cares enough to look for me?
Oh look! Something that could be a shelter from this cold, vicious rain. As I run to it, I realize I have only one shoe, dark red, like dry blood. I can see the color because there is light in the room. Papers, construction plans, those ugly hats that are suppose to protect your head from injuries on the site. Oh good! A blanket, I'll wait until after the rain to call someone, anyone, I can't even stand right now, let alone speak.
So much light, it hurts my eyes. It's morning, no more rain, no more darkness. As I look out the small window in this room, I see that this place is empty, not only of people, but of machines. I assume it used to be a construction site, but now it's just a place to dump dead bodies. My dry humor isn't helping much. Damn it! The phone is dead, great, just great. What can I do? Where to begin and where to end?
I know crying won't solve anything, but I am so lost, I just want to never stop crying. I doubt I came here and slipped, I am wearing a dress, a black dress and a dark red shoe that has no heel. Is there no bathroom around here? I wonder what's behind door number one. Yes! Bathroom. Oh my god... my face... it has "dyke" painted on it... Why would anyone do that? My hair, it's been chopped off, I can tell. I feel so sore, was I raped? As I lay here in this corner, scared, crying once again. I remember something. A girl, she is so pretty, blue eyes, black long hair and a smile that can light up a room. I am actually smiling, I must love this girl. I have to find her, she has to be safe. What's that noise? A car, is that a car? I run to the window. It looks like a business man. Should I trust he is not one of the ones who did this to me? Well, I don't have much to lose right now. I get out of the shed and try to walk to him. His face looks so surprised, but a hurt surprised, like when you find out your loved one died.
"Carrie!" he yells while running toward me. Good, he must know me. He puts his jacket around my body.
"Are you ok?" he asks me.
"I am fine." I say, "Do you know me?" I ask him.
"What? Of course I know you, you are my wife." he tells me in a semi-mad semi-upset tone of voice.
His wife? How can I be his wife? I am a lesbian. He kept asking me how I am, what I can remember. I give him one word answers. For some reason I feel him cold toward me, like he is somewhere far away. He took me to a hospital.
When I got out I could remember mostly everything, too bad it took me about a year for this to happen. All the therapy, so much work. I remember the blue eyed girl, she was my lover and the wife of the man who did this to me. She was found dead not too long before I was found. Elizabeth was her name and she was the sweetest person I have ever known. My husband, Shawn, was an executive for a big law firm. He got an anonymous call the day he found me, from a female, Elizabeth no doubt, who told him where I was. Shawn loves me with all his heart, he is such a good man. It tore him apart to find out about me and Elizabeth. Rick, her husband, found us together one night, he came early from work and just went mad with anger. He dragged me to that place beat me up and left me there to die. He probably killed Elizabeth for telling Shawn where I was, he couldn't take how much she loved me. How did I ever put myself in this position? Me, a prominent surgeon with a great husband and the perfect life. I guess it's true what they say, you can't help how you feel.
She sacrificed her life for me. All the tears in the world won't make up for how grateful, hurt, dead, I am right now. Yes, dead, I am dead. It's like she was my life and now since she is gone I am dead. I feel like a zombie walking around without a soul. I can't feel anything but emptiness anymore. The kind of emptiness that hurts, like silence can be deafening sometimes.