***I only just realized I put up the wrong part. Below is the correct Prologue:
I could never remember my parent's faces. They were murdered during World War Three in the Oxford Massacre on the fifteenth of April. I had grown up with my strict great-aunt Beatrice Walker who had lost her husband, sister (my mother), parents and four children. She told me that there was a specific reason why they were killed but she never explained farther than that. Before her death two years ago in 2038, she had worn mainly black to mourn their deaths. We had to be smuggled from Great Britain to America. We changed our names, lost contact with friends, adapted our British accents and basically restarted our lives. I was fifteen then. I had what the doctors called shock amnesia, but I called it the curse. I could never remember anything before my sixteenth birthday. I always felt an urge to know whyn my familt was killed but still 12 years later I cannot recall any memories of life before America.
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Dr. Cardigan, Neuropsychologist
Spearback, Alaska
10/12/30 11:32 AM
The waiting room was small but comforting. There were many seats open but she preferred to stand. She surveyed the empty room and was met with the sight of the off-white walls, tiled floors, the small holovision and an beat-up, weathered newspaper from 2032, the headlines stating the end to the war. The weather man's low voice and the clicks of the keyboard from the receptionist desk were the only sounds in the room, other than the nurse occasionally coming out from the white doors to ask for files then leaving in a rush. She mentally weighed the pros and cons of the operation and the chance she would get picked while she waited. It was only when she heard her name being called several times did she zone back in and walk to the front desk.
"You called me?", She said to the receptionist in a low voice.
"Yes, the doctor will be seeing you now. Throgh the white doors, take a left, walk down the hall and you will see a blue door with a plaque marked Dr. Cardigan, ok doll?", She replied in a southern drawl.
"Ok, thank you", she replied awkwardly before going through the doors.
She took a left and came across the blue door. Her hand rested on the door handle and she contemplated running out, screaming like a lunatic but decided against it and walked in, unsure of what secrets were held inside.
I might have to steal that word for my book, which is in the future. May I? 
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