Anamnesis: A Girl's Resilience

Chapter 1: Survival

"Is it ok to stay here for a while?" Wren asked quietly as she sat at the wooden creaky chair in the corner and let her legs swing.

"Not more than a week," Chris mumbled back. He settled on the other chair that was located on the other end of the small room and began scribbling on a small piece of paper. 

"Is there anything I can do to—"

"No," Chris interrupted. 

Wren fell silent and pursed her lips at Chris's response. Everyone had been in a sour mood since the incident.

 She slowly leaned back in her chair and watched the fan cords smack around as the fan rotated loudly— the only sound that kept the room from being completely dead silent. 

A disheartening grumble followed by the sound of winkling paper broke the fan's almost deafening sounds.

Chris had crumbled his paper and threw it and it rolled. 

Wren's eyes followed the paper's direction until it slowly came to a stop, next to Wren. She eyed Chris who was now attempting to scratch out some more words from the following crinkled paper he pulled from his jacket pocket. 

It was tempting to reach out and open whatever he had tried to write, but Wren knew better. She didn't want to irritate Chris anymore than he had already been for the past three weeks. 

She settled with just watching Chris repeat the same process for about 5-10 times. More irritated sounds escaped from his mouth as he rummaged through the same pocket that had held scraps of paper. A metal object fell and clanked to the ceramic tile. 

Damian, another person who had accompanied the two, shifted his weight from the sound of the metal object hitting the floor, as if it had almost startled him. 

Wren peered over towards Damian who was mindlessly observing the dents and chips in the baseboards of the walls.  His eyebrows— which were usually  furrowed had softened up ever since the incident. There were days Damian sat in silence and worked quietly, and there were days where he'd talk to Wren, harshly, but he'd still speak.

Wren's attention fell back on Chris as she watched him lean forward from his chair to pick up the metal item he dropped. He flipped it open, revealing a sharp smooth blade, stained with droplets of blood. It was about an 11 inch dagger and it was the only weapon that was in their possession. 

After several minutes of flipping it in and out, Chris reached in his pocket for a second item and pulled out the only device that they owned. A burner phone. As he stuffed his knife away he muttered something that was incomprehensible, and his features darkened as he observed whatever was displayed on the phone. 

He stood up, tossed the burner phone onto the bed and began walking towards the door. Shortly after, Wren and Damian were met with a loud slam. 

"You think he's still mad?" Wren whispered quietly.

No response. 

It had been around three weeks since they had escaped that place. They had been surviving off scraps and moving from motel to motel to stay undercover. Chris would go out and do some small jobs, to provide them money for the next motel room, and if they were lucky they'd be able to afford a decent meal. 

Wren let out a small sigh and leaned over to peer through the window. Chris was making his way down the road, with the small beaten up backpack he had brought with him ever since they had escaped. It was a seemingly sacred item, since nobody was allowed to touch or look inside. 

 Wren narrowed her eyes at Damian who was still mindlessly staring at the wall. She crept down to the floor to retrieve a few of the wrinkled papers that Chris had discarded. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her.