A/N: This idea has been in my head forever and I just had to give it a shot. Starts off slow and there will be a lot of unanswered questions in the beginning, but I promise it will all come together in the end. Emily and Alison's relationship may take a while to develop, but I think you'll love to see the way it all unfolds. Bare with me.

Chapter 1

Fear can take advantage of you in the most twisted ways, blurring your vision, leading you down all the wrong paths, and the part that's most terrifying is when you've grown so accustomed to it that it actually gives you a false sense of security. You're always open minded, as optimistic as you are, but that one simple word can change everything you thought you believed in into something revolting. It can cause you to lose control of the truth, and start desperately grasping onto the lies for dear life. Fear, at its extreme, is when your own nightmare becomes your reality.

Suddenly, oxygen was a foreign word that my lungs could no longer fathom. I gasped for air, as if it were the first breath I had ever inhaled, and my eyes were almost struggling to make sense of the world around me. They shot open anxiously only to reveal darkness while I managed to grasp the first thing I could feel with my hands. A sickening taste invaded my mouth and a sharp realization washed over me, disturbingly obvious. I had awakened into unfamiliar surroundings, enough to cause a state of panic in itself, but that wasn't all that was unfamiliar.

I couldn't remember. Not today, not yesterday, not a week ago or a year ago. My own name seemed so distant, like it was locked away in a period of time that was supposed to be forgotten. But there had been a mistake, it seemed, and somebody remembered. Somebody knew more about me than I could ever imagine, but I had much more to be terrified of than them.

Overall, I was petrified of me and all the aspects that suddenly seemed capable of something dangerous. What if the confusion I was suffering from had nothing to do with anyone else at all? What if I brought it upon myself? Regardless, there was only one concrete thought that kept running through my mind, flashing in enormous bold print. I was never supposed to wake up.

I forbid myself to scream or cry, even though sound would not force its way out of my mouth if I attempted. I was numb, maybe emotionally, maybe physically, maybe both. The only way this feeling of helplessness would leave me alone is if I got the answers I needed to maintain my sanity. And I was ready, at least halfheartedly, to search for a light switch. Thinking, after all, was only encouraging every bone in my body to worry.

Slowly, I lifted myself up from what I could only assume was a bed, but even something as simple as moving was a complete challenge. I ached, every inch of me, and it became clear that I had been laying in this position for god knows how long. My muscles clinched and groaned, struggling to carry out their duties.

Finally, I was standing upright, and a sensation of nausea hit me like a wave. With that came lightheadedness, so instinctively I extended my arms in search for anything to keep me from falling. They hit a hard surface, a wall, and I paused briefly to regain strength. After a couple seconds, I mustered up the courage to run my fingers across it, though shakily and unsteadily. It felt cool and smooth to the touch, I observed, continuing to move my hands upward until a metal string of some kind touched my palm. I got a firm hold on it and pulled it hard, wincing at the instant illumination of the room that nearly blinded me. Colored spots clouded my eyes and I had to blink a handful of times to get them to disappear before nervously taking in the sight in front of me.

It was a closet, one just small enough to fit the cot in which I'd laid on. There was a single light overhead, the one I'd turned on, and a rusty doorknob just to the right of it. The tiny room was vacant, untouched, dusty even. It was so far fetched from giving me the relief I wanted. The wallpaper was an eerie gray and was beginning to peel in multiple areas, indicating its old age. Nothing about this was normal.

Out of the corner of my eye, as if on cue, something caught my interest. A single sheet of paper, folded so crisply as if it had been placed there recently, contradicting the rest of the room, was lying on the floor beside the door. I bent uncertainly to pick it up, again nearly loosing my footing as my body feverishly tried to catch up to current speed. I stared at it, opening it with caution, squinting my eyes in a frenzy to recognize the chilling handwriting that so neatly fit inside the lines on the page.

"Emily

201 Graden Street

Don't ask questions. Don't let anyone see you. Get out as quickly as you can,"

A shiver snaked down my spine, and my insides turned to stone as I tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together that just wouldn't fit. Who is Emily, and is 201 Graden Street the writer's address? As if it were possible, I became even more bewildered, shoving the note into a jean pocket that I wasn't aware I had.

Frantically, I felt inside the other pocket to find it already occupied. Inside it was a key, more specifically a car key, which was presumably my way out. I gripped it between my thumb and forefinger and boldly turned to the doorknob, daring to see what lied behind the other side of it. It turned too quickly for my liking, and for the first time since I woke up, I gasped.

I stepped out into the larger room, which appeared to be abandoned also. It was a hospital, judging by the various unused machines lining the floor and the outlets in the wall for them to be plugged into. In the corner was a sink, visible through half closed curtains, and on the opposite wall was a bed. The fact that I wasn't put there instead was enough to spark my deepest suspicion. Yet I was only just barely scratching the surface of my own mystery.

Gradually, I made my way across the room, though fragile and weak, and obviously in no condition to be walking. A different kind of pain started to set in, one that coursed through my stomach mercilessly, and I felt the pangs of hunger eat at me as if I were on the verge of starvation. The thirst I felt was near unbearable while I pressed forward, stopping to gawk at something on the back of the door.

A mirror hung there, an object which should have never been alarming, but for the first time, I saw myself. I saw my naturally tanned skin tone and my deep chocolate eyes, with bags under them that were nearly purple. I saw my dark unbrushed hair and my ripped blue jeans and t-shirt. Gravely underweight was an understatement. I looked equally as dead as I looked alive.

For a while, the earth seemed to stop spinning and I just stared. I don't know how long I stood there wondering if I had features like my father or my mother most, or what they were like and if they knew where I was. I felt useless, a girl reborn into her own life with no clue as to where she belonged. I didn't know where home was just like I didn't know my age or my friends. Basic knowledge seemed unattainable, cruel even. And I was suddenly exceedingly jealous of anyone who knew their own identity like the back of their hand.

Quite literally, standing here, I was alone, which made it impossible to shake the feeling that once I left this hospital the situation would be any different. My mind came to a halt and I knew that I had let its curiosity entice me for far too long. The orders I had been given were strict, and even if I knew nothing of the person giving them it was the only lead I'd get. I had no choice but to obey. I cracked the door and peered outside, scanning the area to plot my escape.

The rest of the hospital appeared fairly new, strangely, with lively decorations and a couple nurses at the end of the hall holding their clipboards engaged in playful conversation. Paintings including of a range of landscapes and flowers lined the vibrant walls, and the room numbers of each patient were engraved orderly on the doors.

Soundlessly, I stepped out and got a quick glance at my own number before making my way to the elevator beside the staircase at the end of the hall. 106, I repeated over and over so it would stick in my brain. I ducked my head and kept my eyes focused on the floor as I walked, making sure not to attract any attention. I pressed the button on the wall to call the elevator, and as I darted in I let out a breath I had no idea I'd been holding in.

The panel indicating the floor I was on was lit up at 3, so I quickly pushed 1, anxiously hoping there would be no stops to make on the way. I should have taken the staircase, I thought, paranoid. Rational thinking was far out of my league right now, however, and the faster I could leave, the better. A soft ding filled my ears as the elevator came to a stop, allowing me access to the final floor I'd have to face.

I dodged wandering eyes and forced my feet to carry me on through the crowded environment. A set of revolving doors came into my vision as I passed a young couple in their 20s talking heatedly about a sick relative. Out of my peripheral vision, I noticed a gift shop to my right, in which appeared to be just opening for the day. A few children around 6 or so gazed at the stuffed animals inside, tugging on their parents' hands with pouting faces and begging for the teddy bears they just couldn't imagine themselves not having. To the left was a counter that a salty haired man sat behind, running his fingers over the keyboard to the computer on the desk.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I noticed that the waiting line to be assisted by him hadn't formed yet.

Cautiously, I approached the desk and stood awkwardly waiting for him to notice me. Without even looking up from the computer, he asked in a recited tone, "How may I help you?"

I cleared my throat, trying to find the will within me to speak. "I need to know if there was a patient in room 106 who went by the name Emily." My words came out strained and uneven, trying to mask the fact that I was startled at hearing my voice for the first time.

"Hold on, let me check the records." He answered in a oblivious monotone, typing away on the computer again. The screen reflected in his glasses as he scrolled, squinting at the words on the screen. It felt like centuries before he looked up at me warily. "Room 106 hasn't been occupied for 2 years. Emily was the last patient there before she passed."

My eyes widened and my lip trembled. Suddenly I felt the need to grasp onto the desk for stability, but I held back. Before she passed. It was as though every new piece of information just led to a bigger tangled web, a more complex secret with no easy intention of revealing itself. So who am I? I racked my brain furiously, only to come back to the same burning question time and time again. The note I had been given seemed like it weighed 100 pounds in my pocket all at once. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I knew.

"How old was she?" I questioned, my voice more composed than before.

"Fifteen," He eyed me with a sudden interest. "Were you a friend of hers?"

I nodded instinctively, only so he wouldn't question me further. It all made sense in some distorted, distant logic. "Don't ask questions. Don't let anyone see you. Get out as quickly as you can," was what I had been advised word for word. And I was almost certain of the reason why. I'm Emily.

A/N: Couldn't resist ending the first chapter with a cliffhanger. ;) No Emison yet, but don't worry, it's coming. Who do you think left Emily a note? Why do you think she can't remember anything? Leave a review and tell me your thoughts/suggestions.