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I am in a room surrounded by nothingness. Or so I think. It’s too dark to see anything properly. The only sounds I hear are the ragged sounds of my own breathing. I feel the cold, metal of chains binding my hands together.
However, I got in this position, I know I must have messed up. And messed up pretty good.
I regain consciousness enough to realise that I probably injected myself with a memory serum. It’s the only logical reason why I can’t seem to remember anything.
The memory serum was originally designed by the CSO to help people forget their trauma from the war. They said it would lead to a more peaceful society.
I only injected myself with enough so that I would forget everything for a short amount of time. I’m not sure why, but it must have been important. I must have known that someone might want my memories. Either that or I was going to do something that I’d want to forget.
Unfortunately, the serum comes with the side effects of giddiness, occasional blackouts, and well, amnesia, which makes it a bit difficult to know if I have done anything stupid since I took it and now. Knowing me, I’ve probably done a thousand things under the influence of the serum that I’m glad I’ve forgotten.
I’m not exactly sure how the memory serum works, but it is made so that it only removes personal memories. I can remember my name and facts. I just have no idea where I am or who took me.
One can guess that it would be the CSO that has locked me up here. I may not remember why, but I couldn’t forget their name even if I tried. Those letters are branded in my mind, my scars are evidence of the pain they have caused.
I can’t remember what they’ve done to me, but lost memory or not, I know that I hate them with a burning rage.
I can’t move, but I try to look around for any indication that might let me know where I am. As my eyes adjust to the tiny amount of light, I almost wish that it could go back to darkness. I know exactly where I am.
I hate how life works. Giving bad people a good life and good people a bad life.
My suspicions are correct. I have been captured by the CSO and thrown into their prison. The place where the traitors go. Only the Ransacked are in here, of course, but the people that are in here are people that even I would never associate myself with. They are murderers. Liars. Cheats. It’s kind of ironic since the people that are trapped here are exactly like the people that have captured them.
Just like the name of the CSO, the thick memories of this place are too strong to be forgotten by the serum. This is Calveron. I have never been here before, but I distinctly remember overhearing about the horrible things that happen to people in here.
I find where the small light source is coming from and see a tiny window. The window is at my eye-level, which seems like an odd place to put one considering I’m sitting on the floor.
I scoot as close as I can to the window without causing my skin to rub too much against the chains. At the far end of the corridor, there is the faintest glow of light where I see two shadows talking. The one on the left is tall and lean; his stature appears to be young. The shadow on the right holds himself confidently but seems withered. I’m guessing he is older.
“Thank you, Hugo. I appreciate your service.” That’s the man on the right. His voice is filled with authority, as if he was born to lead. At the sound of his voice, something inside me ignites with fury. I must know who this man is. But I don’t recognise the voice, so I continue listening for information.
“You’re welcome, sir. But you must know something…”
“Yes?”
“She’s injected herself with the amnesia serum. Either that or she’s just dumb.” I want to punch this boy in the face for that comment. What right does he have to say that?
“Emerson is many things,” the older man exclaims, “dumb is not one of them.” I don’t know whether that’s a compliment or an offence. By the harsh tone of his voice, I don’t think he meant to compliment me. I think he’d rather call me a hundred other worse names than dumb.
“Well then she injected herself with the memory serum. I’m not sure how much she took but she was pretty out of it when we got to her.” Hugo laughs, but it doesn’t sound natural. It’s almost like his voice wasn’t made for laughing, it is too harsh and stiff. “With all due respect sir, if you had seen her in the condition that we found her, I think you’d take back your comment.”
I want to bury myself into a hole and die. Great, I think, what dumb things did I do to make him think that?
“Did you bring the syringe?” The man asks, ignoring the latter comment.
“No, I didn’t think-”
“Are you kidding me? You didn’t think it might be helpful to get the syringe to see where in the world she located a guarded serum that isn’t available for public use.”
Hugo’s shadow head drops in regret. “No, I’m terribly sorry sir. I can send someone back there to-”
“Well, it’s too late now, isn’t it? It’s almost morning and school will be starting soon. We wouldn’t want to scare the children now, would we?” A school? So that’s where I was. I rack my currently empty brain, but I have no idea why I’d be at a school. I don’t think I’ve ever been to school before.
“Sorry, sir.” Hugo’s head is still looking towards the ground. In the distance, I hear the sound of heels clicking against the tiles.
“Where is she?” A woman is approaching the two men. Their shadows move to look at her, and Hugo takes that as his queue to leave. With a small bow and an apology, he is gone.
“Where is she?” The woman repeats, her voice a low whisper. Her voice is so soft, it gives a sense of false security. It rings of trustworthiness and love, but I can tell that right now she is seething with anger.
