The sound of a rusty old door was the first thing that awoke the brunette. The smell of rotten food filled her nostrils. Her eyes peeled opened as she tried to sit up, but her muscles refused any movement. They ached and begged for her to stay down, so she did, but that didn't obstruct her from scanning the horrid room she was in. The cement walls were covered with stains of old paint, drips of filthy water fell from the vents. Small insects crawled into the cracks between the wall and the floor.
She didn't know where she was.
She didn't know how she got there.
She squinted her eyes to where she saw a shadow approaching her, their shoes clicking on the pavement ground. She wanted to scoot away but her legs remained screwed to the floor.
A busty man came into view with a smirk plastered on his scarred face.
"Wh - who are you? Wh - where am I?" The girl felt her tongue becoming invalid to any movement, it was as if it were becoming fatter, but still she managed to stutter out the dying questions she had.
"I am you guardian from now on." The man spoke with such posh.
"Wh - what? Who are you? ... and - and who am I?"
The man seemed in thought as he circled the fragile girl. He placed his index finger under his chin beard as to think.
"I rescued you. They were after you, don't you remember?"
This time the girl flinched a little, she didn't remember anything, "N - no. I don't even remember my name..." she whispered more to herself.
"They want you. You did something they didn't like. I'm here to protect you."
Protect me? What did I do? The poor girl tried to recall these so call occurred events, but she only got a blank image.
"I don't... remember... who am I? My name? What did I do?" She began to panic due to the fact that she couldn't remember a single thing.
"You're Nevada Kelly, I find it quite confusing as to why you don't seem to recall your own name."
She couldn't seem to preform a complete sentence. She began to mutter under her breath, questioning herself about everything. She wanted to remember what she did, why she was in danger.
"Come, you need to be fed... Anderson!"
A man around his mid 30's shot through the door. A tight shirt hugging his muscles and his jeans lose.
"Go feed her... and make her clean herself too."
Soon, the man known as Anderson, placed his hands under her arms and lifted her up. But her legs couldn't bare her weight without having her knees trembling, making her lose balance. A grunt came from Anderson, he let her fall to the pavement ground. She felt the pulse on the back of her head; she began to moan in pain and the man did nothing.
"Get up, it's not time to sleep."
She tried to get on her knees, but they kept shaking as if telling her they couldn't do more. Her body came crashing down once again, her left cheek getting bruised on the way. She whimpered, trying to somehow make the man have compassion. He muttered under his breath and left her alone with Anderson who seemed to look at her differently this time.
"Here," he whispered as he extended a hand towards her, "he's not always this nice, be glad he didn't hurt you in any way." He chuckled bitterly.
Anderson carried her without fuss. She was thankful that he was being gentle with her. But she couldn't seem to stop thinking about her past. If she even had one. People say the past is the past and that you should just forget it, but she couldn't. Her past would help her know who she is, what she did.
Anderson kicked an old wooden door open revealing an empty room. The walls were stained with black ink and various other colors. There was a hole where out of it came out a hose. Nothing else.
"You have 15 minutes to shower. You must be done once I come back."
Unintentionally, her grip she had around Anderson's neck tighten, how was she going to shower there.
"I'm going to shower here?"
"Yes. Now, I'm going to let you down. You can just sit and wash yourself if you can't stand still."
"What? This floor is dirty! What's the use in showering if this "cleaning room" is filthy?"
"Do it. If you need any help, just call me."
She didn't want to be in the room, she refused and clung onto Anderson.
He sighed, "The quicker, the faster you'll be out of this room."
He let her down gently where she could finally sit crossed legged. He turned the hose on for her and left. She began by slowly taking her shirt off, she couldn't help but scrunch up her nose in disgust as she did. What kind of shower is this? For all I know, I could get infected. She sighed and proceeded with stripping down.
Anderson brought his wrist up and checked the time, 4:56. He placed his drink down and marched towards the small room. As he approached, soft muffled whimpers came from behind the door. He picked up his pace, thinking someone might have done something to Nevada.
He was relieved when he saw her intact. She had her head buried into her boney hands, her legs trembling violently.
"Are you hurt?"
Nevada slightly jumped from surprise. Wiping her tears away, she nodded. She wanted to to speak, but when she tried to form a sentence nothing came out.
"Anderson." She said, but really she didn't say anything. She just mouthed his name.
Anderson stood in front of the girl completely puzzled, "What is it? Did you lose your voice?"
She opened her mouth, but no words came out of it, only small squeaks and a few stutters.
Anderson called for the man; he was worried.
The man came in asking what the problem was, "What is it?"
"She can't seem to speak for some reason."
Hearing this, the mans face lit up. He slightly smirked, "That's ok. Now come on or we'll be late for our flight."
Flight? What flight? Where are we going?
She tried to speak again, but still nothing came out. Anderson looked at the poor girl with sympathy, "Come on, I'll carry you."
Once she was in his arms, she felt her heart pound against her rib cage. Her head started to pound like before; she hissed and positioned her head to a better place, but the pain didn't stop.
"Nevada? Are you okay? Nevada."
All she saw was darkness.