Chapter 2: Discovery

Outside is nicer than she had expected. She doesn't know why she thought stepping outside would be so terrible; all she knows is that her body tenses the moment the door swings open. In truth, the sun shining into the room had provided a glimpse of what she should have expected: bright, clear skies and a soft breeze.

Once out the door she turns around and shuts it as firmly as possible. She takes a moment to inspect the place she had woken up in.

Calling it a shed would be generous. It doesn't even have four walls and a ceiling. The wood siding is full of termite holes and greenery has grown up the sides, the camouflaging it into the surrounding forest. At least the possible murder evidence is well hidden. She hopes no one else knows this place exists, hopes that it is her hidden sanctuary.

After all, she can tell it's not completely abandoned. The door, crooked as it was, swung open easily, and as she turns back to the forest she can see a small deer trail leading away. It’s a secret place, she tells herself, and tries to believe that’s not a lie.

She can’t stay there forever, and luckily the world has gifted her a trail. She follows it. Why not? Her phone's only giving a vague sense of direction, which matches the nearly invisible trail. It's nice, in a way. The forest is dense around her, trees towering overhead and letting only a small hint sun in through the canopy. She can hear birds chirping, though if asked she couldn't identify a single one. It’s peaceful.

It makes her nervous.

The sense of creeping dread that had followed her out the door was only growing. She realizes that it’s the most powerful emotion she’s felt since waking up. It's nearly enough to overwhelm her. She tenses when wind causes the boughs above her to sway. At every minor noise, she whips her head around to stare into the shadows. Her body locks up more with every passing second. She doesn't know why she expects someone to jump out at her, but her body seems to be waiting for it.

Then, suddenly, the forest clears ahead of her. She's reaching an overgrown road that stretches out before her. To her left it disappears behind a curve, with whatever is waiting hidden behind trees and bushes. To her right it continues straight until it's out of sight, dipping down a hill. She steps onto the road and nearly falls down from the wall of fear that slams into her. Her muscles lock up, and she can barely twitch her fingers. It's only when she stumbles back, practically forced to by her emotions, that the fear fades a bit.

It's not much of a choice. To her right, she's able to walk. To her left, she freezes with fear. She doesn't even check her phone before making her way down to the right. The further she moves away from that curve the less fear she feels, until finally she's able to examine the emotion. She doesn't know it's origin, but she can feel the weight of it in her chest suffocating her. If she thought the dread had been bad, the fear was worse.

And now she feels a new emotion: annoyance. Annoyance with herself for not knowing why she's feeling this way. Annoyance with whatever had happened to make her forget why she felt this way. And annoyance with whoever she was before waking up, for getting her into the situation in the first place.

It was this annoyance that made her begin to stomp down the road instead of just walking. It made her appreciate the heavy black boots she'd woken up wearing. They added weight to her steps, making every motion feel satisfying.

Hey! Another emotion. Satisfaction. It's the first positive one she's felt. She tries to focus on it, discarding the fear and annoyance. She is fine, she is satisfied, there's nothing wrong with her or her situation. Nothing at all! Who needs a name or an identity? Not her. She'll figure it out.

In fact, she's going to ride this positivity for as long as she can. She'll find a new name for herself if she has too. Pulling out her phone, she goes to search for names. The screen stays black. She thinks back to that 8% battery.

Okay, so she has no phone, no idea where she's going, and no clue who she is. That's fine.

For a second, she regrets not calling one of the people who had blown up her phone. She could have at least figured out her name before thrusting the fact she doesn't remember anything onto them. Then she'd know the name who was disappointing every person around her.

Fear flickers back to life in her chest. Even the clunk of her boots isn't enough to drown it out. It is fine, she repeats to herself. She can find her way home (no clue where that was) grab her stuff (she didn't even know if she had stuff) before leaving forever so no one who cared about her would know what had happened (does she even have people who cared for her).

She hesitates for a second. Is this really the best plan? Maybe she should find someone and get help.

Then she remembers the bloody floor and the lack of explanation. Never mind. Her original plan is still the best one.

Of course, the moment she decides that, a voice breaks through the silence around her.

"Cordelia!"

For a moment she ignores it. After all, who knows who that is. She certainly doesn’t. Then she catches sight of the young woman running up the road, headed straight for her. All her plans fly out the window when the young woman skids to a stop in front of her.

"Where the fuck have you been," the woman says, grabbing her shoulders and going to shake her. The the woman freezes when she takes a moment to look over her, taking in her injuries. "And what happened to you?"

She shrugs. There's no answer she can give. After all, she doesn't know either.

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