Away

Coming to

I jumped awake, taking a sharp breath as I went from laying down to an upright position. I was sitting on a old wooden bed with nothing but a stiff pillow on it. This bed was in a room that was filled with nothing but a bedside table, the bed itself, and a closed door. The floor had a red stain directly in the middle of it, and I didn't want to know what it was or from. The walls were missing any color or paint, and was bare drywall, if you could even call it that.

I tried to stand up, but my back felt incredibly stiff, more so than the pillow. It hurt to flex it more than a small curve. I tried to stretch it away, but it had no effect. At least it didn't make it worse.

In my second attempt to stand, I made the floor boards beneath me creak with age, and sharp pains shot through my body, the epicenter of the pain right in my chest. There was no window inside this room, and I had no clear indicator of weather or not it was day or night. I wanted to assume it was day since I just woke up, but my mind and body felt too out of wack, in the way of I couldn't tell if I had slept through a night, or if I had only slept for minutes.

I tried to remember where I was, and what happened before I got wherever I am, but couldn't. It felt as though someone had done something to me so I couldn't remember where I was, why my chest hurt so much, why I was here, or much about myself at all.

I knew my name is Arron, but I couldn't remember who my family members are. I knew I was 15, but I didn't know how long I was here for, or when it was before now. All I could remember are little things about me, and all other things about my actual life, were locked away.

But why?