The road leading into the compound was silent, almost peaceful. Rosemary walked ahead of me, with Damon following close behind. Her strides were quick and purposeful, and I often found myself struggling to keep up with the pace she had set. My lungs began to ache again, and I winced as I pressed on, closing one eye to deal with the pain. I felt like this amount of pain couldn't possibly be normal, but I couldn't say anything.
I was trying to take in the surroundings as best as possible as we went, mapping out the route back towards the gate. We passed what looked like a bakery, a coffee shop, numerous single-floor houses of varying brown, white, and yellow colors, and an apartment building. We came to the largest home, a bigger version of the single-floored versions we had passed on the way here. It looked to be two floors, with many windows facing in the direction of the compounds' front gate.
Damon had commented that there were only two gates, one on the north side of the complex and one on the east side. Rosemary had given him a sharp look at that bit of information before giving me a glance and a small sigh.
"We can't be too careful. The Shade isn't the only enemy we have here. You've only just woken up; we don't know who you are, what clan you're from, or where your allegiances lie." I wanted to argue that point, but she was right. I knew nothing about myself. Who I had been or where I had come from before I was put out onto that field was a mystery.
Walking into Rosemary's office was just as I had imagined it would be. The furniture was simple and minimalistic, prioritizing functionality over decoration. A potted plant sat near the window, though I couldn't identify it. It was tall, with wide, hand-shaped leaves, and was the only touch of greenery in the office. I was honestly a little surprised it was there, as the main colors of the room were shades of red and gold. It stuck out like a sore thumb, at least in my eyes.
I slid into the seat across from her desk, sitting with my legs crossed one over the other. Her office was ice cold, and I shivered from the chill. I glanced at the thermostat, and my eyes almost popped out of my head. Fifty-eight, it read.
Rosemary and Damon finally arrived at the office after some time. She had been holding a cup of coffee, which she placed on her desk before sitting. I glanced at it for a moment, and when I saw it was pure black, I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
"You're not a fan of coffee, I take it?" she chuckled, teasing slightly. The cup was raised to her lips, and she took a sip. I blinked slightly. She'd not even winced at the heat I was sure must have scalded her from all the steam wafting off of it moments ago. I cleared my throat once before trying to answer her, pulling my gaze away from the cup.
"I, uh, I don't think so. Or at least not black coffee. I don't think I'm a fan of that." I shook my head before wrapping my arms around myself and glancing back to where Damon stood behind me. I felt as if I was being subtly questioned. She leaned forward onto her elbows, her hands clasped in front of her. Her tone came out serious, and I could tell she wouldn't tolerate lying or half-truths here.
"We need to ask you for some information if you're going to stay here with us. Don't bother trying to lie; there have been countless people in and out of the chair you're in now. We won't hurt you, but you can't stay here if you won't be honest." The vague threat reminded me of what was outside the compound walls, of The Shade that was lurking in the shadows beyond. A small notebook and a black and gold pen were produced from the drawer next to where she sat. Her fingers flipped it open, pulling it past countless neatly scrawled notes to a blank page. I couldn't read any of it upside down.
"What do you remember from before you woke up? Anything you can share would help us a lot." The air felt ever so impossibly colder, and I shuddered.
I thought about it for a while, trying to pull down any fragments I could offer her, and the words came tumbling out of my mouth as I dug through the fragments and pieces.
"My name is Nick. I think that sounds right. I think it's short for something, but I'm not sure what. At the gate with Jack and his boys, I saw a memory of someone holding a cigarette for me. I think I used to smoke," I glanced down at my hands, squinting into the callouses I found there. Something twinged in the back of my head, and then it felt like an ice pick was being driven into my skull. Images came tumbling out with and through the pain, and I relayed them to Rosemary, who I noted was writing things down.
Images flashed before my eyes, playing on the dark space behind my eyelids. Memories of playing a guitar for a girl I had liked. A failing inhaler, and countless asthma treatments. Working in a kitchen, sharing cigarettes with a boy older than me. A closet full of skirts, dresses, and frilly shirts, those were mine, I think. A lab, where I was being tied down and injected with some purple liquid. Flying over the sea. The harder I tried to pull at the thoughts, the more my head hurt. The on-and-off pulsing had turned into a steady, violently throbbing pain that almost made me throw up. I couldn't give anything else; the pain rocketed to an all-time high that made my eyes roll into the back of my head, and I felt myself start seizing. Everything turned blurry, including Damon and Rosemary's worried shouts. And I felt myself fall, and my head cracked against the ground before I blacked out.