HiddenLocks

My Name Is Lisa. My Name Is Lisa

"Help!! Help!!" I scream. No one hears me. They cover my mouth so I can't scream I can't say anything. I screech behind the, cold, clammy hand. They kick me in the stomach, I can't breath. Everything goes black, just like that.

I quickly sit up in my bed. I'm breathing heavily, My hands feel sweaty. "What was that" I think to myself. It must be just a dream, but it felt so real. My mind keeps wandering as I lay in a unknown place. "My name is Lisa." Is all I can think. I don't know who I am, but at the same time I do. All of the thoughts are swarming my head about who I am, but they are all new to me.

I know know everything about me, but it was so sudden. It was like someone pressed a refreshed button on me. I know everything again, suddenly. I quickly look around to see if anyone's here. There's no one. I look at he clock on my left "6:35 pm" I look at the lamp on my right, then straight ahead.

I get up and walk forward. There's so many lights. "New York City" pops in my head.
"New York city I guess" I say. That's where I live. I walk out of the room. I see a kitchen, a couch, and huge tv. I also see what I think is a bathroom. This look all new to me, but at the same time, very familiar.

I hear a knock at the door, who would come? I walk slowly to the door and open it.
"Yes?" I say
"Package for Lisa Malcom?
"That's me.. I guess" I say
Shit, did I seem to obvious? Probably.
He hands me the package, smiles at me then walks away. I close the door. I put the package on the counter of my kitchen. I grab a knife and open it.

It's a poem, or something I think
"Lisa Malcolm, Lisa Smith. You were the one. She went away, she was killed. But now your here. I decided to bring you back.Your welcome."
"Who's Lisa Smith? " I think to myself. I try to keep thinking to see if it's a new thought, but I don't remember anything about a person named Lisa Smith.

I sigh, and walk away. I walk back to my bed and just lay on it.
"Who the hell am I" I whisper to my self. I close my eyes and try to fall asleep one last time, hoping, that MAYBE there's a chance that this is just a dream, a dream that felt real. Just, too real.