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Noise.
That was all she heard while rolling onto her side, a sharp pain shooting through her head upon doing so. She winced, resting a hand against her head. It felt warm. Sticky. Was that blood?
She opened her eyes, a faint hue and funny little dots clouding her periphery, disrupting any sense of orientation she might have had. She turned.
There was a gun lying next to her. Was that hers? But why should she have a gun? She didn’t know. Didn’t know where it came from, didn’t know why she was here, didn’t know anything-
She grabbed it out of instinct, first with her right hand, then with her left and got up as fast as her hammering head allowed. She might not know where she was but she knew that she wanted to get out of here. Needed to. Not like she knew where to go. Just- somewhere.
After pushing down the overwhelming urge to vomit, her vision cleared slightly and as she looked around, located a door. That way. Her steps were uneven, her limbs feeling alien but she pushed forward, reaching a hallway.
Doors. So many doors. They all looked the same. It was narrow. She didn’t know where to go. Just anywhere. She remembered. Just anywhere-
“There you are, Celina!”
Within a second, she spun around, arms moving to their own accord, her gun suddenly stretched out in front of her pointing- at someone, something, she couldn’t see-
“Celina. What are you doing?”
The voice was calm. But alarmed- no, it was.. familiar?
She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them. There was a man. Tall. Way taller than her. Aged, probably in his fifties. He was wearing something blue. A uniform? Her eyes wandered- he held a gun. Pointed towards the floor but he had a gun-
“D-Drop the gun.”, she stammered, her voice echoing in her head. It was hers. But this face. His face was so familiar-
“Celina? Do you not recognize me?”, the man asked. That voice. She knew that voice. Or did she?
“Drop it!”, she repeated, louder this time; hands shaking, eyes unfocused.
“Okay. No problem. I’ll drop it.”
Slowly, the man bent his knees, placed the gun on the floor and raised his hands just above his waist. He didn’t seem scared.
“See? I put the gun down. I’m not going to hurt you.”, he appeased, making a step towards her- but she took a step back. “Don’t come any closer!”
“Celina.”
Celina. That name echoed in her mind. It was familiar. Was that hers?
“Celina. It’s me. John. John Nolan. I’m your partner.”, he explained calmly, stopping where he was, hands still raised. She didn’t know what to say.
“And you’re Celina. Celina Juarez. You’re a police officer.”
But that couldn’t be.
“You’re lying.”, she spat, pushing down the urge to lower the gun.
“I don’t trust cops. Mom says I shouldn’t talk to them. They’ll- they’ll take her away-” She wavered. “You want to take her away, don’t you?”
His mouth twitched. Was that… pity?
“No, Celina, I don’t. You’re mom is safe, so are you and I am not lying. Look down. Look at what’s pinned to your uniform.”
She frowned. She didn’t want to take her eyes off him. She couldn’t trust him- but she wanted to.
“Trust me.”
She didn’t know why. But slowly, she lowered her head, looking down at her own body. She was wearing a uniform. The same as the man. And there was a badge pinned to her chest. A badge and a nametag. But she couldn’t read it.
“See? You’re a police officer.”
She looked up again, her gun hand wavering.
“But why don’t I remember?”, she whispered, an overwhelming sense of dread washing over her.
“You’re bleeding. Did you hit your head?”, he asked but she- Celina. That’s what her name was. Celina merely shrugged.
“Okay. We’ll figure this out and everything will be fine. But you’ll need to give me your gun, okay?”
Yeah. Yeah, that felt… right.
Celina nodded, eyeing the gun in her hand, before lowering the muzzle and handing it to the man. He was hesitant at first but then walked towards her, carefully taking it from her hands.
She felt strange. Like an empty vessel. She was Celina. An officer. But she didn’t feel like it.
“Don’t worry, Celina.”, John said, gently resting a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t fight it.
“We’ll fix this. I promise.”