Start of a Normal day

“I know that things might be confusing or even scary at times. That it might feel as if you are out of control and that nothing makes sense anymore. But know that you are in good hands. Your doctors know the truth and know how to help you.” The woman with curly brown hair that dangled just below her chin paused for a moment, glanced to her side where a slightly taller man stood who also had brown hair, but with a fainter curl and much shorter hair. Then she returned her attention to the people seated in front of her and continued smoothly.

“As well as all the other staff members, of course, medical or otherwise. You have come to us for help and we will get you through these trying times. You are here to conquer an inner demon, conquer yourself or to conquer the trauma’s of your past. You took the first step on your path to victory by coming to us and committing to your strategy. We are here to guide you, to encourage you, to correct you when the false perspectives threaten to overcome you and drag you down again. We know the truth and in time, you will too. And once you know the truth, all things that might seem disruptive or disturbing will make sense and bring you closer to the victory and conquest you desire.”

She smiled and gave the thirty or so seated people, most of them dressed in white pants and softly toned shirt or pullover, an encouraging nod. “So try to ignore the rumours and unsettling murmurs and focus on what you came here to do. To conquer that which haunts you or otherwise constricts your potential. Trust the doctors, as well as the staff, and accept that what might seem like unwelcome diversions of the routine is actually part of your path to victory and intended to help you overcome the obstacles you have to conquer. You came to us for help, so allow us to help you.”

Another smile that seemed kind and encouraging, then she made a little gesture towards the man standing to her side. “Now doctor Martens would like to say a few things to remind everyone of the adjustments we made to limit the inconvenience that the construction in the east wing would otherwise cause, afterwards the program that is part of your personal strategy to accomplish your personal conquest will resume for the day. I hope everyone has a day that is filled with the so desired small steps towards conquer. And always remember: together we will fight, together we will grow and together we will conquer.”  

A small cough nearby drew her unblinking gaze away from the smiling woman and the man that looked like her, despite him being dressed in a white coat over white pants, and her wearing black pants and a yellow blouse. How could two people who looked so different look so alike? Although she had never seen either of them before, so perhaps it made perfect sense. Just as her standing here, next to a door within a room filled with people she had never seen before made perfect sense.

“Now, miss Winters…” the coughing male trailed off with a friendly smile as she settled her gaze on him. He also wore white pants, with a white shirt, but the white didn’t look nearly as good on him. White wasn’t his colour, really. Did he know that?

“Since you are no longer exposed and are in fact safely donned in your… eh… armour, perhaps now would be a good time for you to return to your room?”

She stared at him some more, with his friendly smile never wavering, and the white not looking any better on him than before. “Room?” She finally echoed because it seemed he was waiting for a response.

“Yes, indeed. Part of your strategy is resting after daring feats of bravery. I understand you might feel disappointed you didn’t manage to leave and return to your room while feeling exposed, but you made it partway and that is certainly a step towards accomplishing victory. Now allow me to help you to return to your room unharmed, just as I aided you in no longer being exposed.”

She glanced down at his light gesture towards her chest, wondering what he was talking about. Then she realised that all the white she kept seeing was partly on her, in the form of a long white coat with a little tag on it that she couldn’t read from above. The whiteness continued underneath it, which likely meant she was also wearing white pants and shoes. Why was there so much white? Did the white at least look good on her?

“This way, please, miss Winters.”

The light gesture indicated she should step through the open door, which meant that’s who she was. Miss Winters. She didn’t quite remember what her full name was, though. She was quite sure that ‘miss’ wasn’t it, but also didn’t think that asking him was a normal thing to do. And he already seemed to see her as somewhat… fragile. If she was a fragile miss Winters who had almost managed to do a ‘daring feat of bravery’ and he had helped her to stop being ‘exposed’, did that make him a white knight? Winters also brought whiteness. But she probably wasn’t the cause of all this whiteness. If she had been, wouldn’t she have known?

She stepped through the door without comment, knowing that surely at some point he would get tired of holding it open for her with a polite smile. In the room behind her the brown haired man was still talking, saying something about having another word with the construction crew to reduce the amount of confusing noises coming from their tv’s and radio’s. But apparently her going to her room was more important than her listening to that, so she ignored it and moved into the corridor that wasn’t white. Just close to it, with soft blue walls and a creamy white floor.

Her gaze travelled across the corridors in both directions, noticing how one or two other persons with white clothes were walking it. One of the two was too far away to be sure it was actually white, instead of just something soft or icy that looked white. She followed the previously coughing male, which somehow involved occasionally walking in front or next to him. She wasn’t sure why he didn’t just tell her where to go, unless she was supposed to know where to go or it somehow was part of her ‘path to victory’. It didn’t feel like she was getting closer to a victory or conquering anything, nor did it feel like a daring feat of bravery. She was just walking. What was daring or brave about that?

Not that she knew where she was walking, or why, or why she had come here for help. Was that also part of her personal strategy that she had apparently accepted? And if it wasn’t, shouldn’t she feel more disturbed about not remembering? She didn’t feel disturbed, or exposed, or all that fragile. She just felt… normal. And a bit confused. But the confusion also felt normal, so perhaps she was always a bit confused? Perhaps she frequently forgot who she was and what was going on. Perhaps that was why she had come here for help.

“I feel odd,” she said out loud, while tilting her head a bit in the direction of the formerly coughing male.

“It is common to feel tired, drained or even numb after an attempt to accomplish a daring feat of bravery. You will feel better once you are in your room and rested.” The friendly smile seemed like it should be reassuring, but she didn’t respond beyond a faint nod.

Her feeling odd wasn’t unusual, apparently, which meant that her feeling normal probably was unusual. Being tired was another usual, which meant that her not feeling tired at all might be another unusual. Other usuals were her feeling exposed, whatever that might mean, and apparently that could come from not being in her room, wherever that might be. For a situation that felt odd, she felt pretty normal. But her normal wasn’t the usual, so until the usual started to seem more normal, she would probably just be unusual if she acted her normal.

They stopped near a door with silver numbers above it, 215. She had wandered two steps beyond it before realising he had stopped, so she let her gaze drift across the corridor ahead of her for a few moments before slowly turning and walking back to the door. Not unusual behaviour for her, judging by the way he kept the friendly smile on his face. The numbers also weren’t made of real silver. Just as the door wasn’t made of real wood, despite looking like brown wood. He opened the door for her once again and she stepped inside without waiting for the little gesture.

A quiet room, she decided as her gaze drifted across it. A bed with clean blankets with a soft green undertone, the same blue colour on two of the walls and creamy white on the shorter ones. Another door just ahead of her, probably pretending to be wood as much as this one had been, a small couch with more fake silver cushions and a low metal table with some paper on it.

“Well then, miss Winters, you have safely arrived in your room and all is still as you left it.”

Was it? She couldn’t remember.

“You won’t need your, ehm, armour, anymore in here. May I take it?”

“What if I’ll feel exposed again?” She asked as she slowly turned back around to him, her tone lightly quizzical despite not understanding why she would have felt exposed in the first place. There hadn’t been anything scary in the corridor, or in the room with all the strangers. Things were odd, but not scary. And no one had been trying to expose her. Unless she just didn’t remember that and perhaps didn’t remember it because it had happened. That was also possible.

“I am certain that won’t happen in the safety of your room, miss Winters.” Did his voice sound a bit more strained than before? She thought it did, so she said nothing and just quietly looked at him. People often didn’t like silences during conversations. “But in the case it does happen, you can take some medicine… herbs. We have left a fresh selection of herbs for you in your bathroom, which will help you rest. Perhaps you should take some to celebrate your brave attempt and to recover from it. As usual, the herbs have already been cut, dried and ground into the right amount for your convenience.”

Yes, he was struggling a bit more with his patience now, although the friendly smile didn’t waver and he still looked quite… professional. She nodded while looking at the whiteness of his shirt and took a few steps into the room.

“Miss Winters.”

She stopped and looked back at him with a slightly cocked head.

“The armour. Please.”

Was he going to let her keep it? Probably not. “All right,” she responded, but didn’t make a move to give him the armour. For several long moments they looked at each other, with him clearly struggling against something and trying to not show he was struggling with something. It was a curious sight. Finally he sighed and moved towards her, with his hands reaching for her shoulders. She didn’t move and simply watched as he pulled the long white coat from her shoulders and tried to tug it from her arms. If she started screaming or weeping, would he let her keep it? But why would she want to keep it, when it clearly wasn’t any sort of useful armour? He awkwardly pulled the long coat free and stepped back with his price, before quickly putting it over his white shirt. The white coat didn’t look any better on him than the white shirt had, but he certainly seemed a bit relieved once he wore it. Perhaps it was armour for him, not her. Knights needed armour. Was he being brave by escorting her to her room?

“Have a pleasant rest.” For a moment it seemed as if he was going to say something else, but then he just gave her another smile, nod and walked out of the room. The door closed with a soft click, but didn’t sound like it was locked. Presuming she remembered what that sounded like.

Alone in the quiet room, she wandered over to the couch after letting her fingers trail over the soft green blankets. Not a bad touch. The couch was firm when she sat down on it, the small cushions soft and less slippery than their colour made them look. Her gaze landed on the coloured papers and she moved them apart so she could see them side by side.

Conquering Past Fears. Victory through Conquest. Weekly Activities. Meals & Services. Personalised Strategy for Sarah Winters.

She stared at the coloured brochures and papers for a while, considering what she saw and how she still didn’t feel tired, or brave, or anything other than normal. Finally her hand reached for the one that matched what she had been called and let her gaze rest on the top title. Sarah Winters didn’t feel right, but also didn’t feel wrong. It was as normal as the couch being firm and the carpet being brown. It just was.

There was a picture of a building below the title, taking up most of the page. Large. Foreboding despite the bright day in which the photo had been taken? But no, it was just a building. One that sparked no feelings of recognition. It was tempting to listen to the impulse to turn things into strange things. Because of past fears, perhaps? Her gaze flickered to that brochure, but she didn’t pick it up. This one likely held more answers about who she was and why she had come here.

The lower half of the picture, which seemed like an open grass field, was littered with the words she had heard the brown haired woman say. ‘Together’ was the largest word, with ‘Fight’, ‘Grow’ and ‘Conquer’ being placed around it and ‘We’ faded just behind it all and only its above position allowing it to be read. It was there, but perhaps the 'We' part was deemed the least important. Considering that she was sitting here alone, with no idea of what was going on or why she was here, that made sense to her. One of the first things so far. A faint smile tugged at her lips but slipped away as she opened the brochure and she focused on trying to find some answers. Rest could wait.

“Hush now, child.” The voice was quiet, almost soothing. Almost. “Here, we’ll just slip you into the meeting. I’m sure you’ve a lot of questions, but perhaps this can be of some assistance in answering them. Come along, my dear. This shan’t take too long, and then you can go back to your room. Come on, child. I’ve other people to care for just now. All will be well.”

Hayami felt the older gentleman peeling her fingers free of his sleeve, and nudging her toward the open, welcoming room. It was welcoming…wasn’t it? Her escort didn’t accompany her, but did offer her a gentle smile as he turned and walked away. She sidled into the chamber, glancing timidly at her surroundings. The room was very open, with an assortment of chairs that were probably supposed to be comfortable arranged in loose rows. While there were around thirty people sitting in those seats, there were plenty of empty ones. Ocean blue walls rose around the room, with several pieces of neutral, sea-themed artwork hanging here and there. No doubt it was supposed to be soothing, but it distinctly was not. There wasn’t any red. She liked red. Didn’t she? She touched the wine-red fabric of her sweater, fingering the silky-soft fleece from which it was woven. Yes. She liked red.

Frowning slightly, Hayami made her way to a chair in a front row. She did sit somewhat off to one side—there was no need to be entirely front and center, but she did appreciate the fact that people appreciated looking at her. Even here, she could feel their eyes upon her. Ignoring the chair’s silent urging to sit back and relax in it, she sat up straight, her slender form held perfectly prim and proper. It seemed this meeting was all about telling her just how devoted these people were to helping her “conquer her obstacles”, without giving any indication whatsoever about what variety of obstacles she was supposed to conquer. All in all, the speech was naught but pointless words. Hayami was most certainly not soothed but this nonsense.

There was more talking, but Hayami spent the duration of it idly looking at the other people in the room. Wherever this place was, at least there were quite a few others present as well. She counted 28 besides herself. Surely there was someone amongst them who would be willing to help her. People always enjoyed helping her. She kept her expression a mask of timid bewilderment as she looked around the room. She made eye contact with more than a few of the others, making sure to let them see that she was, after all, just a confused and hurting child. Not that she wasn’t confused. That, at least, was real. What was this place, and why was she here? She had always had a good memory…hadn’t she? She couldn’t remember, not now. It felt like the only thing she did remember was her name. And the fact that people did love to help her.

As the tedious meeting drew to a close, Hayami found that there was something else that she did remember. A woman hovered outside the door, and as soon as she saw the familiar face, Hayami broke into a genuine smile and all but ran to her friend. Cherish!” she cried, throwing her arms around this touch of reality. This was something she knew. “I am so very glad you are here.”

The taller woman returned Hayami’s smile, hugging her tightly for a moment. “I’m glad you’re here too, little one,” Cherish replied. “I think this could be a very good thing for you.”

That gave Hayami pause. What did Cherish know that she herself did not? “What do you mean?” She pulled away from her friend, looking up at her with new confusion written upon her features.

Cherish gently squeezed Hayami’s arm, then tugged it through her own. “Not here,” she said softly. “It’ll be easier if we go to your room first. It’ll be quieter. Safer. You know how you can get in bad situations sometimes. We need to avoid you being too upset, right? It’s right this way. Come, little one,” she said. “It’ll be safer there.”

With more questions than even before, Hayami trailed along beside her friend, to what she hoped was privacy in this unknown room in this unknown place. She needed answers. Hopefully, Cherish had some for her. And if not…

Leandro

It really was far too early to be awake. Whatever the time might be. There were some people walking further ahead in the corridor, but they didn’t look in his direction or otherwise acknowledged his presence. Which made sense, because they hadn’t bothered doing more than just throwing a glance at him when they passed him. Which hadn’t been that long ago. Probably.

And while being ignored felt like a good thing - thinking was hard enough without also having to talk - it was also somewhat bothersome. Because they seemed to know where they were and where they were going, which was far more than he could claim.

Once more glancing around, he stared at the far too clean walls, far too shiny floor and once again agreed that he had no idea where he was or what he was doing. He did remember that he was looking for something so he could find someone. But there was nothing tangible connected to that vague sense of purpose.

The lanyard came attached with a plastic card that claimed he was Maintenance Staff, Night Custodian, Leandro Ahmed, he/him, Muslim, English/Arabic/Spanish. In that order. He understood very little of any of it, but being staff probably meant he could go through that staff only room up ahead. Which might have been where he’d been going.

Giving the whole situation a tired shrug, he grabbed the small bucket with stuff at his feet from the floor and went into the room. Except that the door didn’t feel like opening until he pushed the card thing against the black square near a red light, listened to it beep and then opened. Far too early for any of this nonsense.

The room was empty and cramped. Shelves filled with more stuff along with some chairs and steps placed randomly in the room. And while he still didn’t know where he was or what he was supposed to be doing, he did know he was tired and it was far too early to be awake. So he walked to a chair that was almost tucked away in the room, sat down on it and closed his eyes. A little more rest would be good and might help his memory. Clearly he was too tired to be awake this early.

Kacela

“No. No, no, no, no, nononononono NO!” With each repetition, the word grew louder, until the final iteration was barely shy of a shout. Silence reigned for a moment, followed by a cacophony of sobbing that was almost as loud as the shouting. “No,” she murmured again, the word choked with tears. “No.” Finally, the weeping trailed away, and silence once again ruled the chamber. When she looked up at the man seated in the chair, her expression was dazed. “It is not true. It cannot be true. It cannot.”

The seated male gazed down on the tightly bound woman at his feet. A smirk hovered at the corners of his lips and eyes, but she didn’t seem to see it. “Oh, it’s true, all right,” he said. “You’re a damned murderer. Frankly, I’m a little bit sorry that you won’t remember this conversation—the drugs obviously have to mess with your head; we need to keep everyone else safe—but losing this memory won’t hurt you any. Too bad I prefer my toys a little more awake when I break them.” He reached down to pat her shoulder, then traced a finger along her cheek. Only to pull back a little too slowly as the bound woman’s sharp teeth snapped at the outstretched finger, connecting solidly. “You fucking bitch!” He slapped her, hard, first across one cheek, and then the other. “You…” Slap. “Damned…” Slap. “Bitch!” Slap, slap, slap.

It hurt, though the pain felt oddly delayed, as though it had to break through something before it actually reached her. Why was that? Kacela blinked, as if that could help to clear the muddled thoughts inundating her mind. This should make her angry, she realized. She could not think. She was not able to move much either. This she noticed when she finally noticed the sharp sting of a metal tooth biting into her arm. That arm, and the other, were pinned to her abdomen, crossed uncomfortably in some strange jacket that held them tight. In just a moment, the world slowed down even more. The male was speaking again, but the words…the words were too far away to hear. She felt as though she had been awake for several moons without even a moment of sleep.

“That should do it.” These words were spoken slowly enough to make it through the quicksand slurry of her mind. “Come on, you fucking bitch. Stand up, or I’ll drag you to the meeting by your hair, so help me God. I might like that, but I doubt you would. Stand. Up. Now.”

Kacela complied, slowly. The moment she found her feet, she stumbled and fell back to the floor, though she wasted no time in getting up again. She trembled like a leaf in a tornado, but she kept her feet planted on the ground and didn’t fall again.

“Too bad,” the man muttered. “Come on.” He dragged her out of the room they’d been in, but not before giving one breast and one buttock a painful squeeze. “You’ve a meeting to attend, and then we’ll see if you’re drugged enough to be docile and awake enough to be interesting afterwards.”

She stumbled down a hall—or was it several halls?—that never seemed to end, only passages through gently colored ways that disturbed her somewhere beneath the fog that ruled her mind. At last, her escort very considerately helped her to a seat in a room, and thankfully, left her there. Words happened, but they were not the correct sort of words, and anyway, she could not focus on them. Everything was a slow, slow haze, but really, she could not even be bothered too much by that. There was just too much. Too much, and not enough.