I woke with my hands and feet tied up in rope. I felt a rush of blood go to my head and I realized I was hanging upside-down. Thinking quickly, I grabbed my handy dandy pocket knife from my short's pocket, and in one swift move I cut myself free and did a backflip. Just for kicks, I guess.
Now that I could think clearly I tried adjusting my eyes to the dark room I was in. It was small, about 6 feet by 6 feet, and it was filled nearly to the brim with boxes of supplies. The only source of light was from a dusty, dim, white light bulb, which kept flickering.
It felt as though I was in an old, low budget horror movie. I realized now that my heartbeat was unusually fast, and I had been sweating a ton for however long I was knocked out, and it had soaked the back of the tank top I was wearing, that now clung to my skin.
I had now taken notice to my clothes. It wasn't what I remember wearing, in fact I don't even remember what I wore, which feels strange, but I know I didn't choose this. It was a black tank top with thick straps, and it appeared to be a embroidered hello kitty above my heart, and dark blue cuffed jean shorts. I look at my feet to see hand-me-down gray tennis shoes that clearly had been used multiple times before they landed in my possession.
These clothes weren't mine, this room isn't familiar, and I haven't a clue of where I am or how I got here. Panic swept over me. What is happening? I was having some sort of identity crisis. I try to relax and think of things like my family or my friends. But... I can't. No memories, no faces to recognize, no names to remember. But myself, I know myself. My age, my height? My favorite boy band? No luck. No memories come to mind.
But my name. Of course, my name. I'm y/n.
"Y/n" I say aloud. I sounds weird to say but it has to be right. "Y/n" I repeat. I say it over in my head. It's the only thing I remember about me. So I can't bear to forget it as well.