After a terrible accident, Gemma is left with no memory of the first twenty years of her life and nobody to turn to who can help her remember. When she loses her job, Gemma sets out on an adventure to find something worth living for. What she doesn'...
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THE SOUND OF the car doors slamming shut echoes through the quiet lot as Émile and I step out of his sedan. I trail slightly behind Émile as we make our way toward the grey doors with the REPORT HERE sign I noticed earlier plastered across them.
As we near the building, the sound of laughter makes me turn my head, curious to discover its source. I'm a bit surprised to find a cyclist stopped in front of the large gates, casually chatting with the guards. I can't make out what they're talking about, but they're all wearing smiles.
"After you," Émile says, and I realize he's holding the door open.
"Thanks."
The moment we step foot inside, there's an officer waiting to meet us. He directs Émile and I to separate kiosks at a counter that spans nearly the entire length of the rectangular room.
I make my way toward the kiosk furthest away from the entrance, toward the far wall. It's funny that the only windows in the large space are tiny and all positioned near the ceiling, so it's impossible to see outside. But the white walls aren't barren. They're decorated with paintings of various landscapes as well as posters advertising Licapta University.
When I reach the counter, I find myself standing opposite another uniformed officer. His jet black hair is cut extremely short, and the serious expression he wears tells me I'd better have a good reason for being here. When his brown eyes lock with mine, I feel my heart rate pick up and my hands begin to shake.
"Gemma Allan," he states.
"Yes," I say with as much confidence as I can muster. I don't even know why I'm so nervous my hands are trembling. Maybe because there's a chance I'll find out more about myself, about my past. Or maybe it's just because I wasn't formally invited into Licapta and I'm starting to have a pretty good feeling I won't be allowed inside.
"I have your file here, and there's no record of you being accepted into Licapta-U, which seems to be the only logical reason someone of your age would come out this way. So," he continues, folding his hands neatly in front of him and leaning forward in his seat. "What can I do for you?"
His confirmation is enough to expel all hope from my body. It was a silly idea anyway. Even if I was accepted into Licapta-U, I can't remember anything significant from high school. The only knowledge I have is from books I read the past year, which is a pretty significant number since reading was my pass time at the bookstore, but the selection of books was pretty limited. But I don't have time to dwell on the fact I wasn't accepted into Licapta-U because I have to account for my presence to the very powerful looking man in front of me.
"Um," I stall, forcing myself to make eye contact with the stranger across from me. "Well, I came here because I have amnesia, and I can't remember the first twenty years of my life. I don't know if it says that in your file. I was hit by a car. I've been living in Seattle the past year, and I'm thinking about a change of scenery. My friend—" I say, turning to point to Émile and notice he's no longer at the counter. That's strange. Where could he have gone? I force away the thought, refocusing on my explanation. "—he was just here.... Anyways, I got a ride with him. He was coming here to go to university, and I thought I might have been accepted and just not remembered because of my amnesia." I meet Mr. Serious Face's eyes and see his expression has turned to one of boredom intermingled with what I interpret to be mild amusement. "But if you're sure I didn't...."
