She stares at the man in front of her, momentarily frozen.
She shouldn't be doing this anymore.
It should be second nature by now.
Lying.
Shouldn't it?
She wants so desperately to tell the truth once and for all.
Such a simple question.
He frowns, hand still hovering uncertainly in midair.
"Did you hear me?"
Yes.
"What's your name?"
There it is again. That question.
I don't remember.
I can't remember.
But he can't know that. No one can.
"I'm Clint." he repeats.
I know.
She just wants to say it. To rid herself of these lies, these tricks, this overwhelming misery.
You want to know who I am?
Nobody.
She just wants to figure it out herself.
Who am I?
5 years.
5 years of nothing.
No identity.
She tries, she really does, but all she can ever remember is the shadow of a smile, someone wrapping their arms around her, telling her that everything will turn out alright. Then ears ringing. Smoke. The name of a town on a sign buried in rubble. Dark rooms. Strangers. And yet she can remember everything from then onwards in frightening clarity. Basements and alleys, always at night. More, but always the things that she wishes she could forget.
And now she's been standing in this hallway for much too long, with the walls pressing in, threatening to consume her. And this, all of it, it's just too much.
He's still standing there with his hand outstretched.
She's still standing there trying to remember something, anything.
No past.
No future, says a shrewd voice in her head.
Here's a chance to make one.
"Are you alright?" he asks.
As if.
And more than the memories, names flit through her mind. Always just out of reach, never quite in her grasp.
Except for one.
5 years, and she still can't remember her own last name.
But she remembers her first.
And what better place to start?
So she ignores the doubt. Shakes his hand. Answers the seemingly impossible question.
Still flinching away ever so slightly when their hands meet.
Still not quite making eye contact.
Still struggling to make her voice heard over the clamor of noises coming from behind closed doors in the otherwise empty corridor.
Quiet, hoarse, uncertain.
"Lila."
Still far, far, from anywhere near perfect.
But it's a start.
A/N: Hope you liked it! This is just a preview of the story, future chapters will be longer. Review!
Amazingly beautiful cover art goes to the talented Jade Li.