Remember Me [F I N I S H E D - I S H - will be rewriting soon]

Remember Me [1]

I bent down, my hands on my knees and breathed deeply but I straightened up instantly when I saw the man was whacking the chickens off him with his hands. 

"Hey! Don't hurt my chickens," I ordered. "Let me help you." I said, lowering my tone.

I picked up the chickens that stood on his stomach and put them on the grass and then did the same for the other three. I shooed them away and they ran in another direction in a straight line. The man on the floor spat out the feathers that were in his mouth and then I stretched out my hand and pulled him up. He muttered 'stupid chickens' under his breath, thinking I never heard him and then he brushed the feathers and dirt off his clothes but I really didn't see any point since there were hundreds of other stains on his clothes that looked really evil. They were definitely not going to be gone on the first wash.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

I noticed the big bruise on his forehead. It was purple, red and a bit of blue and on top of the bruise was a long line. It was a pretty rough cut and there was dried blood around it. His cheeks were bruised as well. What on earth had happened to him? I examined him closely and wondered why he was in such a state. I was sure that the chickens didn't do this. They weren't that evil.

"I...I don't know," he answered.

"Why were the chickens chasing you?" I asked one question after the other.

He looked at me with a guilty face. I began to worry that he had done something really bad. "I...I stole one of the circle thingy that came out of their butt," he said, sounding like how a seven year old would speak.

"You mean eggs?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I just forgot what they were called for a minute," He said, scratching his head. "Would you mind telling me where I am and what I am doing here?"

"Huh?" I said, confused. Why was he asking me what he was doing here? Like I would know. "Well...you're in a farm and I don't know what you're doing here."

"Oh," he replied, and looked down onto the ground. He seemed like he was lost and he didn't know what to do.

"Is there something the matter?" I asked.

"Yes. No. I don't know," he said. Well that really helped me to understand. This guy wasn't very good at answering questions at all. "My head hurts...a lot in fact and...Well I can't remember what...what I'm doing here or how I got here. I can't even remember how I got this bump on my head," he explained, pausing every once in a while and then rubbed the bump on the forehead. “What’s my name? Who am I? Why do I have this bump on my head?”

“Whoa, calm down,” I told him. “We’ll sort this out. I’ll go call a police.”

“No,” he quickly said. “Don’t call the police.”

“Why not?”

He looked at me nervously and sighed. “I’m…just no!” he said again. “I hate them and I’m…”

“Are you scared of the police?” I asked softly.

He didn’t answer me for a couple of seconds and then nodded slowly. “I just… no police.”

“Okay,” I said, understandingly.

I watched him put his hand on his head and cry with pain. “Ow, my head.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked him. “Should I call a doctor?”

“No!” He said quickly. “No doctors either.”

“Alright…”

I stared at his blue eyes and wondered, is it possible that he has lost his memory? I mean, I have fallen on the ground tons of times but I have never lost my memory but from the looks of his face, I don't think the fall has caused his memory loss. It seems like it was something much bigger and serious.