Losing your memory

Not so sure about the name, if you have any suggestions, please tell me! Thanks for reading, any review would be welcomed. Please tear it to shreds! Thanks, Ofir. P.S. The descriptions are this telly on purpose, and I use a lot of "ands" on purpose too, just to make my mc's voice clearer and more confused.

----------------------------------------

The sweet scent of roses woke me up. I'd always hated roses; they were too sweet, too thorny. However, I wasn't left to worry about the smell of roses for long. I was in a strange room. In a strange bed, to be more specific. The covers had an orange polka dot print on them, and it was really warm and nice and cozy. But it wasn't somewhere I recognized.

Long strands of brown hair stretched on the sides of my pillow, all of them coming from my own head. There were a few stripes of a darker brown in them. It looked kind of nice. But still, was it really my hair?

And there was a person with a gentle face – must be a girl if she's that delicate, I figured – with short pale hair, and tan skin, and two thin arms folded across her chest; she had a sharp nose, and two hazel eyes, and a firm mouth. And she was looking at me as though I'd done something wrong. I swallowed. What was this place?

"Took you long enough," the girl said gruffly, but her voice wasn't shrill as I'd expected it, but low, like a guy's.

I blinked. "Who are you?" I demanded. My voice came out rougher than I'd meant, simply because of the panic in the situation.

The girl winced. "I swear to the heavens, Justine, I've had enough of your jokes – it was never funny, I already told you –" As the strange girl with the rough voice kept on talking, I stared at her blankly. Justine? Who was that? But then, what was my name?

"I'm sorry," I interrupted, starting to feel a bit irritated. The stench of roses was nearly unbearable. "But I don't know you."

I waited as her face gradually eased into a horrified expression of understanding. Her tan features seemed to lose a little color. "But you just tripped!" she shouted, her voice still mismatching.

I shrugged, tugging my hair behind my ears. With a ping of interest, I watched her clothes. Apparently this was interesting since before, too, because I felt myself lighten up. She was wearing a really baggy shirt, and a pair of short loose-fitting pants. I pushed the covers off the bed – anything to get away from the smell – and inspected her clothes. She watched me warily.

"Really," I sighed. "Why do you wear things so big? Tight things would suit you much better."

The girl stared back at me, her terrified expression turning slightly dumbfounded. Her hazel eyes met mine, a curious tint to them.

It was getting slightly uncomfortable when she didn't answer so I continued to talk mindlessly. "Could it be that you're afraid of tight clothes?" I inquired as I pulled back to sit on the bed. Walking felt good. I brushed my feet slowly across the floor. It tickled.

The girl opened her mouth, then closed it again.

"I mean, you're dressed like a boy," I continued. Catching my mistake, I blushed, hurrying to correct it. "Not that that's a bad thing. If you're into that kind of stuff," I amended. "It's just girly things are nice too…"

She stared at me with an unfathomable expression. "You don't… remember me?" she asked in a hushed voice. It almost managed to sound soft.

I glanced at her over my shoulder. "No. Am I supposed to?"

The girl's knees shook slightly before she stumbled back to the door. "Professor!" she yelled loudly.

I counted exactly two heartbeats before a young man ran through the open white door, nearly smashing into my bed. His surprisingly long hair was held tight by a dark rubber band. With a thin finger, he pushed back a pair of slender glasses up the bridge of his nose, the grey eyes behind them observing the situation. He finally cracked half a smile. "Justine, you're up." His tone was warm and welcoming, and I had just about had it with it. He had no right to treat me so nicely when he didn't know me – or pretend that he did either way. So I just… cracked.

"Okay, you and you!" I held up my finger, indicating the girl and the young man. My voice became louder, forcing my throat to make more effort. Interesting sensation. "Who the hell are you, for starters?!" I stared the new man right in the eye. It seemed like he flinched. "Why. Am. I. Here?" I questioned through clenched teeth.

The young man pursed his thin lips. Then he turned to the girl. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

This annoyed me to no end. "Hey!" I snapped at him. "Answer my questions first!" They didn't seem to notice.

The girl mumbled something incoherent in her strange voice. "Professor," she finally managed, "Professor, I think there's something wrong with Justine."

The young man raised a dark eyebrow at her. "You think?" he asked sardonically.

I closed my eyes at the chaos. Who were these people? And more importantly, who was I? Why couldn't I remember this? It seemed so curcial.

Finally, the young man turned to face me. "Well then," he said pleasantly, but grimaced in the process. "This might be fun." He leaned down so that our faces were on the same level. "I am Professor Henry Howard." He tipped an imaginary hat. "How do you do? I specialize in botanies, and am the owner of this shop." It seemed as though he was introducing himself. I sat upright eagerly. "Age Thirty three, happily married. Also known as Professor." He grinned. I nodded. Finally some answers. I hoped my brain was getting this. "This right here, is Leroy." He gestured with his head at the girl, who was pouting in the corner of the room, avoiding my eyes. "Also known as Roy. Age nineteen, currently a student at Harlem Community College." I nodded again. Okay, so far so good. Professor's grey eyes scrutinized my expression before he continued. "And you are Justine, age eighteen, runaway brat – my niece."

It felt as though something had exploded inside my mind. The only thing keeping it from imploding was my sheer effort not to lose it in front of these people. I fought to keep from crying, or laughing, or screaming, all at the same time. The person he was talking about… was me?

Professor sighed, a wrinkle of frustration creasing his forehead. "Look," he began, but Roy spoke before him.

"You really don't remember me?" she asked in a small voice.

I shrugged apologetically, thankful for the distraction. "Not even a clue."

Professor just shook his head. "I think you should rest, Justine."

It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. "Wait!" I held up my hand. "How come you're not taking me to the hospital?"

Professor's thin lips stretched into a smile. "A bright girl, you are. Always knew it," he said before leaving the room again.

Roy approached my bed hesitantly. "So you really don't remember?" she asked again.

I laughed. The sound sounded pleasant in my ears. "I already told you…" My laughter faltered. "But, then, why do you keep asking?"

Roy rubbed her tan forehead, running a hand through her short blonde hair. "Just can't believe it, I guess," she muttered, then she turned around, walking out the same way the professor did.

I flopped down on the bed, stretching. Just me and the roses now. Ugh.