Three Days
Three-Hundred Eighty-Six
The lights flickered and then shone brighter than ever before. There was a glare off of the metal table placed in front of me. I squinted my eyes and glanced around, taking in my surroundings. Where am I?
I try to get up, to ask someone to explain, but I find my wrists are handcuffed to the table. I shake my hands, strain against my chains, but it's no use. As I'm pulling on my restraints a door opens and a man walks in, eyeing me warily.
"Andrea, calm down," he says, and I look around for Andrea, but I'm the only person in the room. If he thinks I'm Andrea, he has something terribly wrong. My name is Dawn.
"I'm not Andrea," I tell him. "I'm Dawn. Dawn Eddings. What's going on?" He stares at me for a moment before excusing himself and exiting the room. The door opens again and the man reenters along with a woman I don't know.
"When we found you," she says, "You said your name was Andrea. You were covered in blood standing over the body of your boyfriend." She stared at me coldly, but what she's saying can't be true. I look at my hands and see blood in my cuticles. I'm going to be sick.
"But you have to be lying! I'm Dawn!" I cry. The man and woman look at each other before asking me what the date is. When I say it's August 7th they tell me it's actually the 10th. What happened to the last three days?
The last thing I remember was arguing with Michael before he left for work. He had slapped me and I screamed. I'm searching my mind for what happened after that, but all I have is a ringing in my ears and pitch black until the lights flickered a few minutes ago. The time between my last memories is completely blank, but they're telling me I killed Michael, and the dried blood under my nails that wouldn't wash away is evidence of that. But who is Andrea?
The two in front of me whisper some more, something about a psychological break, but I'm too tired and confused to listen so I lay my head down. It would be so nice if something would make sense for a change.
I try to get up, to ask someone to explain, but I find my wrists are handcuffed to the table. I shake my hands, strain against my chains, but it's no use. As I'm pulling on my restraints a door opens and a man walks in, eyeing me warily.
"Andrea, calm down," he says, and I look around for Andrea, but I'm the only person in the room. If he thinks I'm Andrea, he has something terribly wrong. My name is Dawn.
"I'm not Andrea," I tell him. "I'm Dawn. Dawn Eddings. What's going on?" He stares at me for a moment before excusing himself and exiting the room. The door opens again and the man reenters along with a woman I don't know.
"When we found you," she says, "You said your name was Andrea. You were covered in blood standing over the body of your boyfriend." She stared at me coldly, but what she's saying can't be true. I look at my hands and see blood in my cuticles. I'm going to be sick.
"But you have to be lying! I'm Dawn!" I cry. The man and woman look at each other before asking me what the date is. When I say it's August 7th they tell me it's actually the 10th. What happened to the last three days?
The last thing I remember was arguing with Michael before he left for work. He had slapped me and I screamed. I'm searching my mind for what happened after that, but all I have is a ringing in my ears and pitch black until the lights flickered a few minutes ago. The time between my last memories is completely blank, but they're telling me I killed Michael, and the dried blood under my nails that wouldn't wash away is evidence of that. But who is Andrea?
The two in front of me whisper some more, something about a psychological break, but I'm too tired and confused to listen so I lay my head down. It would be so nice if something would make sense for a change.