"Lovino, darling, your dad and I were so worried, you have no idea!" A woman identical to my brother, the young man that slept at my bedside, came in the door, dragging a worried man that also looked like my brother, except that he had blue eyes instead of green.

"Mom…" My brother said, looking devastated.

"Mrs. Karpusi, could you leave us alone, please," the woman said.

Is she my mom then? Yes, she must be. Maybe that man is my dad? Mrs. Karpusi left the room, quietly and hesitating, as is she was not sure if she should leave.

"Lovino!" My dad, or so I believe, was quickly at my side, looking worried. So my name is Lovino. It's suiting.

"Mom, dad, he doesn't remember us," My brother said, almost whispering, as if saying it out loud was making it real.

"What are you talking about, Antonio, of course he remembers us, right, Lovino?" I could hear that she was nervous.

"Then see for yourself then! He does not remember who I am!" Antonio screamed and runs out of the room. The door slams shut, and all that remains is silence.

"Lovino, what are the names of your parents?" The blue-eyed man asks.

I don't know what to answer. I tried to concentrate and focus on these two people, but I did not find any name in my head. I shake my head and look down. I hear that my mom is trying to hold back her tears, but fails. Dad is sobbing too. I know that this is not my fault, but I still feel guilty.

Why did this have to happen to me?

When we came home, my mom and dad showed me around the house. They where pointing out rooms, but I could not recall any memories about those rooms, except my bedroom. What I remember about the room is blood, sweat and pleasure. It's like I know that there has been much of it there, but I still question those three things.

Why blood? Was it because I got hurt there, so bad that it has been marked in my memory? There are so many things that I don't remember. But most of all, I want to know about the good times. Like how I remember mind-blowing pleasure in this room. I want to know what caused it. I want to re-experience it.

Mom and dad told me something when we were driving home. They cried so much so that it was hard to understand. I now know that my birthday (the day they found me outside their door) is March 17. The woman's name is Claudia Fernandez Carriedo and my dad's is Manuel. My brother has, without a doubt, the most beautiful name I have ever heard. Antonio. The name feels so familiar on my lips, but still so foreign.

Speaking of Antonio, he never came back after he ran out of the hospital, and he is not here either. Mom and dad think that he is with his friends that also were my friends. I wonder if they still think of me as such.

"What's his friends' names?" I ask, hoping that their name would bring some feeling or memory.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt is a loud, Prussian albino. He has a little brother named Ludwig. Toni is also good friend with Francis Bonnefoy. He is a blond, longhaired Frenchman. He has a boyfriend…I think, and a little sister named Lucille," my dad says.

I feel nothing. I shake my head, and go up to my room, the only place that I can recall something from my life I lived before.

Antonio never came home. I did not sleep either. I was just laying still and waiting for the sun to come up and listening for the footsteps of the one I so badly needed. It felt like hundreds of years before the sun finally came, but still no Antonio.

Mom and dad drove me to school and gave me a paper that said which room I was going to and how I can get there. But I did not go to any of my classes, instead I was waiting for Antonio to show up at the cafeteria.

He did not come to lunch. Luckily for me, no one talked to me that day, and I never saw a Prussian albino or a blond Frenchman. I was simply lost for the rest of the day. After many hours of waiting, the school was finally over. I was just about to go home, when I saw a tall man with spiky, dirty-blond hair and sideburns. When I saw him, I felt like have seen him before. When he saw me, he shouted:

"Lovino, why are you here? We all thought that you where sick, since you did not come to history class."

I just stare. He waves a hand in front of my face, looking irritated.

"Hey, Lovino!" He tried one more time.

"Ah, I am sorry, but do I know you?" I must take chances if I want to know about my past life. I silently hope that this man can tell me something I don't know.

"Not funny, try something else."

"It's not a joke!"

"Yeah, yeah. Care to come to my house so we can work on the project? I wont take no for an answer," he says and takes my arm, dragging me to his car. I let myself into the car and he starts the machine.

"So why weren't you at school?" He takes up a cigarette and lights it with a bullet formed lighter. Awesome.

"I was in a car crash and lost my memory."

"Funny story, but I don't believe you."

"Call my brother then, he can tell you what happened. How long was I gone from school anyway?"

"A little under a week."

"Aren't you going to call Antonio?" I ask. Why wouldn't he do that?

"No."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Yes."

"You did not answer my first question. Who are you?"

"Lars Maes."

"Nothing more to add? Are you a friend?" Is that all he is going to say to me? His name?

"No, but we will be, Lovino."

Lucille Bonnefoy – Monaco