Chapter 22 – Memory Loss
Flora turned over in her bed, stretching and yawning. She frowned at the taste of something strange in her mouth. Assuming that it was just morning breath, she lay there for a moment, listening carefully to see if anyone else was up, and, as usual, she heard the familiar sound of Emmy singing in the shower. She smiled to herself; she had often admired Emmy's singing voice.
After a short time, she sat up and climbed out of bed and made her way towards her wardrobe, her head banging and her vision going wobbly, where she would fetch today's orange dress and head downstairs and wait for Emmy so that they could make breakfast together. At least that's what would have happened, if Flora didn't feel the crushing of something hard yet squidgy on the floor below her. Then she heard a cry.
Flora leapt backwards and onto her bed, frightened, and looked down to see what was there. Or rather, who was there. An unfamiliar girl was clutching her leg and groaning, uttering words unfamiliar to Flora, which would have been translated from Czech into some very nasty obscenities. Flora screamed.
"De fuck is wrong vis you, Flora?" the girl yelled back.
"What? How do you know my name? WHO ARE YOU, DAMN IT?!" Flora screamed, grabbing her pillow and readying herself for a fight.
He suddenly heard footsteps running down the hall, and the girl retorted, "Is me, Emmy. Little Emmy? Remember?"
The door opened and Luke burst in, looking worried.
"Is something wrong? Is everything alright? Who just screamed?" Luke asked worriedly, going over to sit next to Flora on her bed. Hershel followed Luke into the room, looking flustered.
Flora stared. "Luke? Luke! Oh my God, I can't believe you're here! How are you? How was your flight?"
Luke frowned, confused. "What? Flora... I've been here almost a week now. I'm going back in a few days."
It was Flora's turn to frown confusedly. "... What? But... I have no memory of this."
Little Emmy stood up and shook her head muttering to herself in Czech. She looked at Hershel for answers, and he merely shrugged. This was when Flora noticed him standing at the door and frowned.
"Who are you? And why are you in my room?" she asked.
"Er... I'll just go," Hershel muttered and left. He squeezed past Emmy, who had gotten straight out of the shower to see what all the commotion was about, and left. Emmy entered and looked awkwardly at everyone else.
"Is everything alright?" she asked.
"No," Little Emmy sulked. "She stepped on me. And my head hurts. My mouth taste funny."
"You still haven't told me who you are," Flora demanded, folding her arms.
"What..."
"And Emmy, why didn't you wake me when Luke arrived? I thought he was coming the day after tomorrow."
"But Flora—"
"And Emmy, why is this person sleeping on my bedroom floor? And who was that guy who just left?" Flora was breathing deeply now, getting paler. "My head hurts."
"... If I'm honest, I don't really know, Flora. Why don't you lay down again, and I'll bring you up some breakfast and a painkiller? Luke, Emmy, why don't you leave us a minute?"
Luke nodded, patting Flora on the back and heading out the door. Little Emmy followed, limping.
Emmy sat beside Flora and felt her forehead.
"You must be sick, Flora, you're burning up..." Emmy trailed off as the professor entered the room.
"Are you alright, dear? And what happened to Little Emmy?"
"Little Emmy..." Flora looked confused as she began to turn green. "I think I'm gonna be sick." She leapt from the bed and ran out of the door and top speed. They heard retching coming from the hallway, soon followed by a yell in a Czech accent; "FLORA!"
Emmy caught the professor's eye and smiled. "It's just not my day, is it?"
After Little Emmy was cleaned up and Flora put back in bed with a bucket placed in front of her as a precaution, the professor leaned over and kissed Flora's forehead.
"So, my dear, tell me the last thing that you remember about yesterday."
"Well, I was up studying, and then I went to bed, because Emmy came in and told me not to overdo it. I think maybe I did, because my head really hurts now. And I can't see properly... Uurgh..." Flora threw up again. The professor sat up and rubbed her back, holding back her hair with one hand.
"It's alright, dear..."
Flora laid back don as Emmy entered. Emmy winced at the sight of the bucket, which was now full again.
"I'll empty that, shall I?" she grimaced, taking the bucket away. The professor reached down beside the bed and placed the spare bucket on Flora's lap. He thought carefully. If Flora's last memory took place over a week ago... and she and Little Emmy were both experiencing symptoms of an induced sleep... then someone must have attacked Flora. He looked down at his daughter, who still looked terribly green as she tried to sit up.
"Definitely no school for you today Flora," the professor decided.
"Yay..." Flora coughed and retched again.
The professor winced and rubbed her back again. He thought of Desmond and how ill he looked. He remembered Aurora's words... "You were very disorientated, Professor. You couldn't even see the numbers on the clock..."
Andrea was definitely out to hurt him. "she must have attacked Desmond as well. And now she has hurt Flora..." he looked down at his fatigued daughter. "I must end this quickly, before anyone else gets hurt."