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9

CHAPTER 4

Who Are You

The blaring of an alarm woke me and I stretched out across my pillow. My heavy arm slammed down

on the clock to silence it, returning my home to its quite peacefulness. I lifted the covers, my body

protesting as I groaned. My head pounded, my memory of the night before was

fuzzy

.

I sat up in bed, feeling like a ton of bricks had collapsed onto my head. The faint smell of coffee crept

into my senses and I wondered whether I had fallen asleep in yesterday’s clothes. A haze of

confusion filled my mind as if a part of my memory had been stolen. As I recalled the events of

yesterday, I always stopped short at one point. It was like my memory was a broken disc that

continually skipped at the same place. No matter how hard I tried to remember that missing puzzle

piece, it was useless. It was gone and there was nothing I could do. But I could not let it go. It felt

important, as if I had forgotten that I had found something special, something that meant the world

to me. I remembered only going to work yesterday morning and returning that evening. My head

pulsed painfully with the effort of thinking.

As I gazed around the room, my head whirred with a strange sensation and my eyes mindlessly

wandered, unfocused and distant. An unusual earthy scent masked the room, an unfamiliar one.

Dragging my feet across the soft carpet of my house, I entered my bathroom and stared at my

reflection. The man who looked back at me was a dishevelled mess. My clothes looked unclean, red

dirt splattered onto my black jeans and jacket and my jet-black hair sticking up in all the wrong

angles. I knew I was messy, but I was not

that

messy. Quickly, I stepped into the shower and under

the steaming stream of hot water, I closed my eyes. I traced back the events of yesterday in more

detail this time. Again and again, there was a roadblock in my memory levery time that I tried to

remember that one thing. Something so significant that would be unforgettable, seemed to be long

forgotten. I Woke up. Went to work. Came home. Then what? I must be losing my mind.

I hopped out of the shower and examined my clothes again.

Seriously,

I thought to myself,

how did

my clothes become so dirty? What happened?

I dusted off the dirt from my jacket, and leant down to

pick up my beaten up backpack from the floor of my bedroom and return it to its hook. As I picked it

up, I saw the edge of what looked like a piece of paper sticking out of the front pocket. I reached

inside and pulled the object out. It was a faded photo, torn at the edges, of what appeared to be a

picture of a boy and a girl with his arms around the girl’s shoulders. Looking closer, I saw that it was

me, but I wondered who the girl was. She had blonde hair that looked like the colour of honey. High