Amnesia EJ X Reader prologue

My body aches and my head feels heavy; the bed is soft though, and inviting, so I drift back into darkness. I pay little attention to the figure shutting the door.

I groan as I burrow my face into the pillows, the comforting darkness of the room is broken by one persistent ray of light penetrating the curtains. I crack open my eyelid to stare lazily at the offending beam reaching through the... blue? No green? Yellow? What colour are the curtains?

My brain leaps to attention as I take in cream patterned curtains. I don't have cream curtains. Right?

It seems to be a recurring theme: cream curtains,cream walls, carpet, bed covers, even the soft cotton shift I wear is cream. The strangest part is how new the room is: it looks like it should be on a glossy double spread for a magazine. I don't belong here - I live in a house in... somewhere. With my family. I'm sure I have a family, a parent or two, a sibling maybe?

I reach down to curl my arms around my knees, holding myself together as I try to search my mind. My name is (Y/N). I am a girl and I am (Y/A). My favourite colour is (F/C) and I spend too much time on the internet. Knowing that I can at least remember myself is comforting, but I can remember other stuff; the things I learnt in school are still safe in my mind; when I try to recall the faces of my teachers I draw blanks. In fact, if I try to remember anyone's faces they're blank figures. Celebrities and politicians are easy but not my best friend and childhood crush, my weird cousins and the bullies from school. The figures that appear in everyone's lives are shades to me. The details of my bedroom and the model of my laptop and my mums phone number have all been stolen from me.

I step out of the duvet; I feel out of place here. Luckily the furniture doesn't creak and the floor doesn't give me away as I take light and careful footsteps towards the door. I reach for the handle, however as my fingers brush the cool brass, it turns. I take a step backwards and the door swings open. I curl my fingers into balls hanging limply at my side as a figure approaches me.

She flashes a smile at me and walks past, opening the curtains with a flourish she turns around.

"Morning (Y/N), sleep well?" Her voice is bright but also measured, as if her words were practised.

"Who the hell are you?" I say. My voice is completely monotone, the shock's got to me.

The woman's smile falters and she sighs,

"Oh dear (Y/N), not this again. Follow me, please, and I'll explain!" Her voice picks up and she ushers me out of the room and down a staircase, as we walk she tosses her blonde hair and calls to me over her shoulder.

"My name is Charlotte dear, but you call me Lottie. You mustn't be worried - all will become clear soon!" I follow her into the kitchen and take in her appearance, blonde hair brushes her shoulders and brown eyes look at me through thick artificial lashes. She seems to be in her 40's and has a professional look about her. Even though she stands a few inches shorter than me she's imposing and I comply helplessly as she tells me to sit. She slides a piece of paper towards me across a polished marble table and looks at me intently, as if examining my reaction; her other hand brushing against her lips. I look down at the paper only to recognise, honestly and be surprised that I recognise, my handwriting.

Trust Lottie, it'll make sense soon

"I don't understand"My voice is a hush now.

"I'm your state-appointed carer Lottie, we live here since you prefer to be away from people. Honestly sweetie it's for the best; you suffer from memory loss every few months so this isn't the first time we've been through this. Sometimes you lash out but you're a good girl really; we've lived here for years" She finishes with her last words as an afterthought and crosses her arms; she leans towards me holding my gaze in her own.

"After a few days you'll adjust and we can carry on as normal!" I look around the spotless kitchen; it's like a show home. How could I have lived here for years?

What can I possibly do though other than smile and agree? Then there's the matter of the note. I'm convinced that I did write it.

"I'm going to get ready, maybe have a nap" I mutter as I walk away.

Jack gritted his teeth as he pulled the scalpel from the old woman's heart. As he looked down at her withered husk he knew he wouldn't get any meals there. Luckily for him he had obtained something much better - the old bitches house, isolated deep in the middle of a forest it was perfect; plus the old woman was a total recluse so he had at least a few months before anyone started looking for her.

The whole arrangement was almost perfect; he only had to eliminate one more person in the area before he was set - and he bet the blonde, who had just moved into the other house by the forest, was young enough to have some tasty parts left in good condition.

I wander though the rooms upstairs, unsure exactly of what I'm looking for. My cream-coloured room is suspiciously empty, there are no posters or photos, in fact no sign to show anyone lived there at all. I look out of the windows to see a lush green woods on one side and empty roads before a distant town on the other. Then I bump into Lottie who suggests I go have a shower; she seems strangely insistent as she speaks and she goes to her room after. I decide this is the time to do some sleuthing. I turn on the shower in the bathroom and quietly walk to her door, locked of course. I hear her murmuring on the phone, but I can only make out parts.

(Y/N)

a month
enough 

good money

amnesia

(Y/N) (L/N)

hurry ...news... ...searching...

...fuck... ...a rival?...

blue
masked

I barely have time to reach the bathroom before she leaves.

I pull on a thick black hoodie over a green vest, and thread a belt through my jeans. Today I had decided.

I tell Lottie I'm going for a walk and unsurprisingly she invites herself along. I might not be able to trust Lottie but I think I can out run her. Or outmatch her if it comes to that. So I am reasonably confident as we set off into the forest. We walk deep into its midst and I admire the greenery; the undergrowth becomes more densely packed and we are forced to slow down. I feel uncomfortable, as if dark things lie in the woods, but pin it on Lottie's silence. She knows now.

I whirl round to face her.

"I don't know who the fuck you are but I don't trust you for a minute," I scream at her as I turn swiftly and run. I head for a thick copse of trees, now blind to Lottie's actions.

I don't see it happen but I hear it. I feel it. A gunshot rings out and my shoulder burns and I fall to the dirt. I am face down, shaking and screaming. I am on fire and in agony and it's unbearable because I failed.

She, a few inches shorter than I am, towers over me. She spits on my face and calls me a whore. She hopes I'm glad I just lost my last few months of freedom, that she's glad she can stop pretending. She reaches down and begins to drag me back to the empty house.

It appeared the blonde wasn't alone, Jack thought to himself, smirking beneath his mask. There was a girl with her, younger and prettier with (HL) (HC) hair fluttering in the breeze. It had been a while since he'd seen a girl who looked so delectable.

However the girls scent, while its undertones were sweet and warm, was flavoured with bitter panic and fear. Delicious.

Jack was as surprised as she was after she was shot.

After she fell screaming and the metallic scent of her blood hit Jack he decided that his course of action would include two things: ripping apart the older bitch and storing her organs in the freezer; and saving the more delicate morsel that was the girl. Meals like her were rare and Jack was very patient when it came to fine dining.