Doubt pierced through my usual armor of certainty as I locked eyes with the girl. For once, I couldn't weaponize it. The truth hit me like a sledgehammer: she was as clueless about herself as we were about her. It defied logic. How could someone be a stranger to their own life?
"And why would your mother keep you at home?" I ask, still holding an apprehensive demeanor. I wasn't just going to trust her directly; I was first going to study her, to know what she's about. She looks up at me with wonder in her eyes. She looks at me with curiosity, as though she has so many things to say but still cannot get any words out of her mouth. What had been happening here? Who was she really?
"Mother told me that I lost my memory 8 months ago," she says absentmindedly, her voice filled with sorrow and sadness. She wasn't lying. I could tell that she was making none of this up. She was telling the truth. Nothing but the truth.
