Make A Killing

Amnesia

    Isla's point of view.

The room was silent, but my head was pounding. I couldn't think through the pain. It was focused on the back of my head and between my eyes, and every once in a while it would overwhelm me. It got to the point that all I could think of was the pounding pain. I kept my eyes closed; it didn't make it feel much better, but keeping them open made it worse. My only hope was that someone could quietly come down and help me.

    I also couldn't remember my name. Was I supposed to know that? Surely I had a name, right? I couldn't remember my family either, if I had one, or my friends, if I had those. All I knew was that I was very uncomfortable, and every time I tried to get out of the stupid lumpy bed I was laying on, bands on my wrists gave me a shock. Was I a prisoner of war? Were we in a war? Why would I be a prisoner?

    ...What do I look like? 

    My headache got worse, and I stopped thinking entirely. I just laid in the bed and tried not to upset the bands on my wrist. Maybe if someone ever checked on me, I could ask them to give me a less lumpy bed. Unless I'm a prisoner of war...?

    That's too much thinking again.

    I laid for hours. I don't know if it was morning or night when I finally heard someone. I groaned as their footsteps echoed around my skull. I didn't bother opening my eyes. 

    "Replace the lumps," I said with a slurred voice. 

    The footsteps paused. "...What?"

    "The lumps. The bed. It's stupid."

    The person hesitated outside the bars of my cell. "Are you feeling okay?"

    "No. Because of the lumps. Replace them." I was getting irritated that they were such a horrible listener. I had just told them my problem. I needed a new bed; what weren't they getting about that? I groaned as I realized they must not understand me somehow. 

    "Lit," I said, in case they spoke french. 

    "Lee?" asked the voice, confused.

    "Oui!" I said excitedly. "Oui, tu comprends! Bon, très bon! Le lit."

    "What are you saying? Have you gone insane?"

    "Español?"

    "No! I do not speak Spanish! Please do not start speaking Spanish. What did you say in that other language?"

    I huffed, "So you don't understand, then. I thought we were doing good! The bed."

    "We're going in circles. Are you messing with me?" they asked.

    "Are you messing with me? Also, am I a prisoner of war?"

    "Uh, yeah, you actually are kind of a prisoner. I'm glad you understand something."

    I nodded solemnly. "The Cold War, or Vietnam?"

    There was no answer, so I peaked my eyes open to see if they were still there. A girl with two dark braids that hung past her shoulders stood on the other side of the bars. She was staring at me with a look that said she was just as dumb as I had guessed she was. She clearly did not understand my English. I just wish we had a language in common. "What languages do you speak? Russian?"

    "No, I only speak English," she said with that same baffled expression. 

    "Then why don't you understand the word 'bed'?"

    "I do, but you're not making any sense. Lumps?" 

    I almost sat up in my excitement, and it caused the bands on my wrists to shock me. I promptly fell back into the bed. "Yes! Yes, you understand now! Lumps."

    The girl with the braids took a long, deep breath and turned on her heel. "Okay, I'll come back down when you're not insane. Goodbye. Trinket says you should go to sleep."

    "Can't sleep," I muttered as the girl disappeared again, "because of the lumps."

                                                                                              ***

    My headache was off and on for the next day or so. It became easier to speak without slurring my words, and as I became more and more conscious of my surroundings, it became easier to communicate with my captors. I still spent quite a bit of time in a daze, but they at least seemed to understand my words now. However, they still had not told me who I was, who they were, or what war I was a prisoner for. Unfortunately, they also told me they couldn't replace the bed I was sleeping on. Apparently, it was the only kind they owned, and it was difficult to make more.

    "You're saying you don't remember anything? Do you know who the Raven King is?" asked the girl with braids.

    "Am I the Raven King?"

    "No."

    "Hm. Is the Raven King my family or friend?"

    "Uh, not your family. I don't know if you'd consider him a friend, really, either."

    I pressed my hand into my forehead. "If he's not me, my family, or friend, how would I know him?"

    "Well, he's your.... Okay, you know what, we'll just call him a friend for now," said the big scary guy called Francis. "Do you know him?"

    "No. Can I meet him? Does he have pet birds? Can he get me a better bed?"

    Francis and the nerdy kid, Trinket, looked at each other. "Uh, no. I don't think so."

    "To which question? The one about birds or the one about the bed?"

    "Uh, both...?

    I sighed. "Then why would I want to know him?"

    "You already met him, Isla. You're seriously going to try to tell us you don't remember anything about him? Nothing at all?" asked the white girl with splashes of freckles across her cheeks. They called her Gem. She was muscular, too. Scary. 

    "Is my name Isla?" I asked groggily. 

    The four of them sighed and leaned back. They seemed to take me in, so I closed my eyes against the headache that was beginning to return. The lights didn't help; I'd tried to ask them to turn off the lights, but they hadn't let me. Gem had said it was probably an escape attempt. 

    "It's possible she has some sort of traumatic brain injury. Luna, how did you knock her out, again?" asked Trinket.

    "An explosion from the sphere you gave me. I got out in time, but I found her unconscious in the kitchen, not too far from where the bomb went off. The bomb wasn't huge, but since she was so close..."

    "It really may have knocked her out and given her amnesia," finished Gem.

    "Do I work for you guys?" I interrupted. 

    They ignored me. Francis eyed me. "You don't think she's faking?"

    Luna, the girl with the braids, pursed her lips. "You should've seen her yesterday when I tried to speak with her. I don't think anyone could fake that. Still, to be safe, we'll keep her down here until it's clear she's innocent. Trinket, is there any chance of her regaining her memories?"

    They huffed, "You guys. How many times do I have to tell you that biology and anatomy are not my forte?" The rebels continued to stare at Trinket. They sighed and continued, "Still, yeah, she'll probably regain her memory. How long was she knocked out, Luna? That may give us an idea of how long it'll take."

    "Several hours. Is that bad?"

    "It's not good. It may take a couple of weeks to regain her memory if she does. It varies from person to person, though, I think. We'll just have to keep her down here and try to take care of her to help her remember everything. She may not be exactly herself for a while, okay? That's normal."

    "So...what? We just leave her here all the time until she's better?" asked Gem incredulously. 

    "You could let me out of the dungeon if I work for you guys," I realized. "Hey, do any of you know if I'm a good cook or cleaner? Maybe I can earn my keep. And then I don't have to be a war prisoner anymore."

    Luna rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I think she'll have to stay down here. The moment she regains her memory, she is probably going to try to escape or kill us. Maybe we'll check back in a few days? Francis, would you mind feeding her and everything? Keep her healthy."

    Francis looked me over and nodded. I shivered. I was not a fan of Francis. He was too big and too scary for my liking. Besides, he seemed like he might not like me, either. I squirmed and tried to think of a solution despite my muddled thoughts. 

    "I'd rather Trinket stays," I mumbled. 

    Trinket clicked their tongue. "No can-do, friend. I gotta run the lab with Gem. Besides, Francis is our cook. He'll take care of you. I'm flattered, though."

    "Besides, I'm not the scary one," Francis said with a sly smile. "Trinket is the one that makes bombs and things."

    Luna stood. "We're wasting time. C'mon, let's go back upstairs. Francis, just check on Isla every once in a while." She turned on her heel and opened the door that led to the dark tunnel. "Trinket, I can answer a few questions about those bombs if you want, now that I've seen the results of one."

    Trinket sprang to their feet and chased after Luna down the tunnel. "Really? Oh, this is exciting!" They rambled off a string of nonsense that made little sense to me. I wasn't sure if the others understood them much either.

    Francis followed them out after one last glance over his shoulder at me. "I'm making soup tonight. I'll bring you some later. Get well soon, dude."

    Only Gem remained. The room was quiet, finally. I relaxed my shoulders and decided to try to sleep, even though the bed was poking into my back in three different places. I waited to hear Gem's footsteps echo down the tunnel with the others', but she remained for another minute or so. 

    Then she put her hand on the cell bar. "Isla, I know you have to be faking this. It's too much. You've been with the soldiers for your whole life--how can you just forget them in an instant? It doesn't make sense to me."

    I groaned. "Nothing makes sense to me right now. Can I rest, please?"

    "Are you trying to get me to leave you alone so you can escape?"

    "Trinket says I need rest," I said, "and my head hurts. Let me sleep, please."

    Gem sighed. "Fine. I just wanted to let you know I will be keeping a close eye on you. If you try to escape, you'll regret it. I don't believe your act for one second, okay?" She brushed herself off and finally headed toward the tunnel with the others. "Have a nice rest."

    Finally, she was gone, and the room could sink back into peace and quiet. Only my own breathing filled the cell, and as I drifted off to sleep, even that slowed. The dungeons and I were at peace.