BLOODLUST

Amnesia

“Oh Megan, dear Megan thank God you’re awake.” Mrs. Miller enclosed me in a tight embrace, hauling me into a sitting position. Tears filled her eyes as they threaten to fall but she was able to hold them in. She had a beautiful relieved smile on her face that showed the small wrinkles beside her glistening pale green eyes. I stared at her for maybe few seconds, the inner me pounding my brain to remember who that lady might be. But there was nothing; nothing at all.

“Get her something to drink.” The blonde lady on the other side of the bed commanded as a maid ran outside the room. I recognized her voice. She was the one who ordered to close the curtains. Thank you. But I was still out of words. I managed a grateful smile, as she returned a bright happy one, making her cold palms gently brush my cheek. Though they were kind of creepy and cold in their pale appearances, I can feel that they’re such good people who were once very close to my heart.

“Well? Say something kid.” The boy beamed beside me stroking my hair. His eyes were emerald green and his flaxen hair has strayed along his eyes, making him tuck them neatly behind his ears. “Oh somebody’s dumbstruck right now. Did you miss me?” He added trying to lift the tension off the air caused by my prolonged silence.

I don’t know them. I don’t know how I got to this place. I don’t know who I am or why am I here. What’s happening? Moreover; what happened? Questions needing immediate answers rumbled up my brain again as the inner me desperately fought her way to provide my lips with words.

“Who are y..you?” I managed a coarse whisper as I turned from the boy to Mrs. Miller. The silence of their disbelief was broken by the door being opened by the maid who handed me a glass of water. I instantly took it leaving Mrs. Miller, the blonde woman and the boy wide eyed with my question.

“What do you mean?” The blonde lady asked, her face now etched with worry. Mrs. Miller is still in shock; her jaw slightly dropped which parted her lips a little.

“Stop messing with us Meg. Oh! I’m gonna call my Aunts and tell them you’re. . . ” A reprimanding tone came out from the boy as he finished his statement with excitement. He stopped as he felt the sincerity of my question.

“I am your mother.” Mrs. Miller spoke as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Megan darling don’t you remember anything?”

I shook my head as I came out of words. “And I am your Aunt Portia, your mother’s friend. . .” The blonde lady added as I turned to look at her ice blue eyes and soft blonde curls falling from her neck. “. . . and this is my son Peter.” She motioned to the boy as I spotted their only resemblance; flaxen blonde hair. Though their eyes are both almond shaped, Portia’s eyes were ice blue and cold while Peter’s eyes were of dark emerald; gentle, kind, warm, sexy. Oh, what am I thinking?

I looked away from Peter, as he noticed my long lingering stare. I stopped at the sight of myself in a mirror. So this is me? I asked myself as I leaned closer to the mirror which is quite a meter or two from my bed. My legs found their strength once again as I planted them on the cold hard wood floor without ripping my eyes off the dresser mirror.

I didn’t mind them standing up in caution as I took my first few steps towards the dresser. She was a young brunette with long wavy locks and streaks of copper as rays of sunlight shone upon her hair. She has orbs of golden brown that where much rounder than those of Mrs. Miller; her mother.  Is this supposed to be me?

I placed my palm against the mirror as the young lady did so too. What did I expect myself to look like? I removed my hand from the mirror and let it feel my face. Running my fingers from my cheeks to my lips, I felt a familiar sensation. I knew by then that it was me. I recall this face, I recall this hair. This is me.