Sofia Donroe

The Girl

The girl opened her eyes. 

She blinked. 

Once.

Twice. 

Three times.

She looked up.

Where am I?

It was a bright day, and her eyes were starting to hurt from looking at the sky. 

She looked to the left. 

There was a large brick building on her left.

She looked to the right; looking back at her was another person. 

The other person seemed to be behind a large glass wall. The person was lying down on her back… just like she was. The person had dark black hair with almond-shaped eyes. The person was wearing jeans, and a grey sweatshirt and was covered in dust and dirt. There was a dried clump of blood in her hair. 

The strange thing was when the girl moved her hand a bit, the person behind the glass also moved their hand. When the girl stuck out her tongue, the person behind the glass also stuck out their tongue. When the girl blinked, the person behind the glass also blinked.

Is that… Me?

That can’t be possible. 

She didn’t remember looking like that. She remembered looking like… 

Wait… What did I look like?

She closed her eyes, trying to recall something, anything that could give some sort of explanation as to who she was. But there was nothing. Only a hazy blackness that stretched on forever. 

Why can’t I remember?

Then through the darkness, she heard something. It was quiet, so quiet that it was barely audible, but she was able to tell that it was a word. As she concentrated, the word got louder and clearer, and she realized what the word was. 

It was a name.

And it was hers.