GAME OVER


OR: THE CHAPTER WITH NO NAME


Her eyes open.

Somewhere there's the taste of Bad liquor and early morning sunshine just rotting in her mouth; a precarious dream she remembers having about the moon falling from the heavens and onto the dirty threshold of the place she called home.

Blink. Moan. Bad hangover.

Just on a dirty lice-infected bed. Covers half pulled up to her waist, exposed torso is pinpointing hard nipples straight to an overhead ceiling that was embellished with popcorn kisses.

Moan. Blink.

Cascading hair is flowing everywhere like red rivers along a dirty pillow. A pale arm reaches out for nothing, mind rolling with disconcerting pleasures, as the girl on the bed fishes for air.

Hand lands on an adjacent night stand, mind opens up with clarity as she finds two cherished loved ones she had not expected to bed with her; a box made of metal, and one made of cardboard.

Brings them closer to her face, and she recognizes them as a Zippo and a brand spanking new carton of Junes brand cigarettes. Picking herself up and leaning herself along the old wood of the bed's headboard, she peels the cellophane wrapping off the carton and tosses it aside to an abyss of carpet. Flipping the lid open, she then scans the content of the box for a random cigarette.

Locating one, she then takes it out of the carton to invert it so that the tobacco flacks were facing her. She then returns it back to its original position in the carton. It stands apart from its siblings, whose myriad filters all face The Girl.

Picking another one at random, she inserts the filter end of it to her mouth and, clicking the Zippo open, finally lights the tip. Taking in a few cancerous moments only to breathe them back out, she scans the room she was currently occupying as she closes the Zippo shut and places it, and the pack, back atop the nightstand.

Lone window with venetian blinds shining in the morning rays. It was an unkempt and simple room of modest size. Just a bed with two adjacent nightstands, a door leading outside and one leading to the bathroom. Against the wall, on the other side of the left nightstand, were a row of mahogany drawers. On this nightstand was a glass multicolored lamp and a cheap digital LED clock displaying the time; nine thirty in the morning.

The mahogany drawers had an elongated mirror implemented into them, of which The Girl can see herself. Blowing a puff of smoke, she draped the covers over herself so her reflection could cover up anything that was exposed. Afterwards, the reflection just puffed smoke and stared incredulously at her.

Looking over at the right nightstand, she noticed both a black rotary phone and a closet filled with clothes.


She puffs smoke before the phone began to ring.

At first she just stared at the phone as it rung, her reflection following suit. Picking up the receiving end and pressing it against her ear, she finally decided to answer the phone.

"Hello?" the person on the other end of the line answered. The owner of the voice sounded old and frail, and the Girl immediately got a mental picture of an old man in her head.

The Girl puffed smoke for a minute before parroting the person on the opposite side of the line.

The Man giggled softly.

"Early morning sunshine beautiful," more giggling while the girl ran a free hand through her red hair, "Do you know what place you are currently occupying?"

The Girl answered no.

"Do you know your true Nomenclature? "

No.

"Are your past recollections bickering you to remember?"

No.

"Ah, Ah, Ah," he sounds amused, like a jester on the verge of a punchline, "My assistant and I can currently help you. Do you want our assistance?"

Yes. Please.

He sounded amused when he answered, "Perfect. Here is my assistant. Now you'll understand that we'll want some sort of payment, if you will oblige."

What kind?

Again, evidently amused at the Girl's expense, he answered "Just a few errands here and there, no currency payments or exploitative endeavors on your behalf, just your mere presence performing whatever feats we expect of you. Now, here's my assistance, whom will provide you with further information."

A scratch on the other end of the line, skin brushing against the receiving end no doubt. A feminine voice answers "Hello, Miss."

Emotionless. That was the word The Girl would define the woman on the other end of the line. The Girl puffs smoke as she greets the new voice.

"Miss, we will be requiring you to perform some errands for us. Am I correct to assume that you have no idea of your true identity?"

The Girl wracks her brains. It was true, she had no idea of who she was. No history, just waking up in this room with a bad taste in her mouth and the dying embers of a nightmare she was already forgetting. She deduces that she should be freaking out over the fact that she had no memories, but currently she's as calm as iced tea.

The Girl answers the voice with a no.

"Very good. The first task we require of you is to go to the front lobby of this hotel and speak to the receptionist behind the main desk. You must leave your room by one o' clock. Do I make myself clear?"

Yes.

Her cigarette is slowly dying as ashes start to blanket the covers.

"Very well. Now, in the nightstand that this phone is currently sitting on is a drawer. Open it when this conversation is over to receive your first gift. In the mahogany drawers on your opposite side and also in the closet, there are clothes for you to wear. If you happen to get hungry, on the floor of the closet is a mini fridge. Take whatever will satiate your Hunger."

Thank You.

The cigarette is down to a bud.

"You are very welcome. Shall I repeat anything?"

No.

The Girl strangles the life of the bud on one of the nightstands. It stays on the painted black wood like a makeshift grave.

"Miss, as a summary of your errand, you are to meet the receptionist in the main lobby. Remember to reclaim your gift from the nightstand."

Thank you.

A click.

Hello?

Dead dial tone.


The Girl places the top part of the phone back on its black pedestal. She reclaims the Zippo and pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and pulls out another victim.

Click.

Lighting it up, she takes a few puffs. Breathes them back out.

Her head is empty, nightmare already dead. No questions about her past are in her mind, even though they should be buzzing around her head like misquotes attracted to a bug zapper.

The clock reads Nine Fifty.

Puff, Puff, of smoke, and the Girl suddenly realizes how hot the room is. She pulls the covers off of herself and throws them on the floor. Her reflection does the same. She stands on the bed with no shame.

Her body is.

Puff puff. Down to a bud again. Sitting back down, she Snubs the head of the cigarette against the surface of the nightstand so that there are two graves, then decides to open the drawer.


Wide eyes.

The drawer is empty save for a white index card that contrasts heavily with the brown wood of the drawer. It reads empty as She grabs it with the tips of her fingers, only to find that it bends too easily in her grip for it to be an index card. She turns it over.

Wide eyes.

It wasn't an index card, it was a sticker.

Wide eyes.

Almost a scream as she drops it to the floor.

Wide eyes.

She realizes that she's naked and her body is disgusting.

Wide eyes.

A flood of emotions rush back to her, unfamiliar attachments that taste like something she's experienced before.

Wide eyes.

She runs to the bathroom.


Gurgle. Gurgle. Moan Moan.

She Hears herself vomiting.

What, She doesn't know. She can't remember what she had last night.


The sticker on the floor reads:

HELLO MY NAME IS:
Mitsuru Kirijo


Disclaimer
and
concrit greatly appreciated