Amnesia Chick

Dear Diary,
I am afraid. I walk these dark, deadly, dirty streets alone. I don't know whats happening or how I got here. I don't know where I am. It's like I was born a full-grown 16 year-old girl...I think. I don't know my name or my age.
They tell me that my name is Kathleen Bernadette Steiner.
They say that I'm 16 years old, born on the 25th of March.
They say that I'm a natural redhead but just recently dyed my hair black.
They say that we moved here a month ago.
They say they are my parents.

"Kathleen, sweetie!" A pair of hands were shaking me, attempting to awake me. I didn't know whose they were. I didn't know where I was. "Kathleen!"

I peeked from beneath the quilt. A dark haired woman of about 30 was leaning over me, attempting to wake me from my slumber. I had no recollection of who she was.

"Kathleen? Kathy wake up!", the strange woman said. "You're going to be late for school!"

My eyes went wide with shock and alarm, and then I began to cry.

"Oh dear, did you have a bad dream? This is becoming a regular thing." She frowned.

"Who are you?" I choked between sobs, although barely audible for my quilt was clenched over my out.

Troubled. This woman looked troubled. "I'm your mother dear. Don't you remember?"

I was shaking. I sat up in the bed and looked about. The woman eyed me curiously. The room in which I lied was painted green and orange. I immediately hated the orange. The walk in closet was closed, a mirror on the back of the door. A desk sat in the corner of the room with a laptop and pruner on one side and various books, journals, artwork, pens, a jewelry box, and various other knick-knacks. An iPod sat on the floor next to the desk on a charger. It was in an orange case. An orange and blue-spotted robe hung on the back of a swivel chair. Why was there so much orange?

I managed a woeful "Where am I?" between the shaking. I found that my own voice was one that I found familiar. As I spoke, a new question came to mind. I nearly screamed it at the top of my lungs. The woman remained quiet.

"Who am I!?" It's a scary thing to know that you exist but not know who you are. I scurried out of the bed, falling over twice, not bothering to get up the second time. All the while the tears never stopped falling. The feeling was a strange, out of body one. As if I was watching myself but I didn't really know what I looked like. I crawled to the mirror and stared. In the mirror I saw a girl in her late teens. She had dark, curly hair and kelly green eyes. Her skin was pale and freckled. She wore a long pink nightie. I hoisted myself to my knees by grabbing the mirror. I ran my fingers through my thick hair and felt unnatural. I felt as if I wasn't myself even though I didn't know who "I" was. The woman just watched. She watched for a long time, all the while I was cried with my face against the mirror.

She got up off the bed and walked towards me. She raised my face so that our eyes met.

"Kathy…I don't understand what is happening." She shook her head. "But I'll tell you that you are Kathleen Bernadette Steiner. Bernadette is your grandmothers first name. You were born the 25th of March in 1993. Your hair is a lovely red…but you just dyed it this wretched black!"

"Where am I?" I wasn't satisfied with the answer to who I was, but I let it go for the time being.

"You're in our home. Your father left to work at 6. We just moved here a month ago."

I sat at the mirror and didn't say another word. The woman eventually left the room. I stared into the mirror for what felt like hours. I didn't believe a word of it.