((The following events take place from late August to mid-November.))

Why were people such a drag?

Was a ride home really such a big deal? Sure she was drunk…and sure the guy had a girlfriend…and sure she lived in a “dangerous, mutant-riddled” part of the city. If anything, that should’ve been more incentive to drive her home. Seriously, some people were wound up way too tight.

So there Lydia was, stumbling home at some God-forsaken hour, the flickering streetlights even too bright for her eyes. (Who knew she could get hungover so quickly?)

She wasn’t sure how close she was to the Sanctuary, but she hoped there wasn’t much farther to go. Her mind was so jumbled up she couldn’t tell if the street names or surroundings evoked any sort of familiarity, so there was no way to be sure.

“Oh hey, I remember this alley…it’s a short cut…yeah….?”

Yeah, sure. Whatever got her home.

She started through the dark alleyway, her kitten heels doing nothing to help her stay upright. The ground seemed to shift around under her, and her vision spun in circles.

Really, how was she not going to fall?

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“…actual length of unconsciousness is unknown, but it’s been approximately fifteen minutes since she was found. Oh hold on, she’s waking up.”

“What?” Lydia managed to croak, before her head exploded with pain. She tried not to cry out as she felt throb after throb of intense pain, and tears sprung up in the corners of her eyes.

“Ma’am, please don’t move. You’ve hit your head pretty hard. We’re almost at the hospital,” the paramedic informed her, checking his watch and recording the time.

She had no intention of moving, she just wanted some relief. She clutched the handles of the cot and tried not to tear her face off as the ambulance hit a bump in the road and sent more waves of pain through her head.

A few agonizing minutes later, they finally reached the hospital and she was wheeled into a bustling ER, doctors and nurses flying from patient to patient. She was placed in a quieter section, and attended to by a grizzled, gray doctor.

“Hello dear, can you please tell me your name?”

“Lydia Renard.” She gritted her teeth as a nurse shined a light into each of her eyes.

“Where do you live?”

“LA. California, I mean.” The doctor’s brows furrowed for a split second and he quickly scrawled something down on his clipboard.

“What year is it?” He asked.

“Uh…2003?” But somehow Lydia knew that wasn’t right. She didn’t feel like a kid, and in 2003 she’d been a kid.

“Okay, we’ll talk about this later,” he said suddenly.

Wait…what was there to talk about…? “Wha—?”

“Nothing to worry about.”

I’m eighteen. But I’m not. The last thing I remember is turning eleven. I’m missing seven years of my life. The doctors told me I have amnesia, which sounds cool, but really isn’t. It kind of sucks, actually.

Dr. Stuart told me I should keep a journal. I don’t know how that’s going to help, but Nurse Barbara told me I should listen to the doctor, so here we are. Everything is so weird…for one thing, I’m not in LA. I’m in New York. I have no idea how I got here, or what I was doing. I don’t really know what I’m going to do either… No one has come to claim me. And I’m an adult (it's crazy) so I’m on my own after I get out of the hospital.

Some things I haven’t forgotten are my parents and their…accident. It’s been so long in real life but to me it’s only been about half a year. Sometimes I cry and the nurses think it’s because my head hurts.

Today was my last day of testing. The tests were really boring so I’m glad they’re over. I had to get nine stitches on my forehead and I have a big bruise, but it hurts less now. It was horrible the first couple of days, especially since the nurses wouldn’t let me sleep.

I feel like I have to act grown up, and sometimes I do, but other times I feel like a little kid. It’s kind of embarrassing.

Oh, and there’s this nice guy named Eli. He’s a medical student, specializing in neural-something (I don’t know what he said). Something tells me he’s cute, but I’m not sure what that means exactly yet. He helped with some of my tests. Well, I’ll finish this entry since we’re talking now. See ya.

-Lydia
09/01/11

She dreamt again. The same recurring jumble of images.

Flashing visions of spiked giants and other creatures with fantastic and grotesque malformations. Faces, fires, the bittersweet smell of alcohol. Bright, disorienting lights. An exploding child. A monster chasing her through the darkened streets.

And a stuttering walk that ended in oblivion.

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Maybe I should tell Dr. Stuart about this, Lydia thought to herself as she munched on her cereal. But even as she made that mental note, the mess of pictures was already nearly gone. There was a chance it all was just a chaotic dream…the things that occurred in it seemed too fantastical to have ever been real.

“Hey honey. Did you sleep okay?”

“Eli! You scared me,” she said, her surprised expression instantly melting into a smile at the sight of the young man entering through the door.

Eli crossed over into the kitchen, grinning. He leaned in to give Lydia a peck on the cheek and took the seat across from her at the table. “Not like you to be so distracted. You didn’t sleep well, did you? Was it because I wasn’t there to snuggle up to last night?” He said with a wink, reaching for the box of cereal. There was already a bowl and spoon waiting in front of him. “I was really swamped at the hospital, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I got your message. I’m sure you’re exhausted, you should go to bed.”

“Not ‘til you tell me what’s going on,” he replied, pouring milk into his bowl, “And besides, I want to enjoy some breakfast before I knock out.”

She sighed, and stared at the smiling man sitting in front of her. He really wasn’t going to go until she told him. But it was such a small thing…a simple, stupid dream. “It was nothing, just a bad dream. Well, it was more weird than bad, I guess…I don’t know, I guess it’s the same one I’ve been having the past few nights.

“Well anyway, I can’t really remember it anymore. Just a few images.”

“Hm…well, maybe you should mention it to Dr. Stuart.”

“Why…?”

“Come on, recurring dreams? This has to have something to do with your memories.”

This was why Lydia hadn’t wanted to bring it up. Because she knew Eli would try to somehow connect it to her past. She didn’t know why he was so intent on having her remember her old life. Things were going so great, she doubted whatever she had lived before was as good (or good at all, really). The circumstances with which she had been found, alluded to a more sordid life than she cared to know about.

Her psychiatrist had told her things like amnesia took time to heal, anyhow. She was fine with waiting. For the moment, at least.

“…maybe. I’m sure it doesn’t mean much. But yeah…I’ll mention it to him.”

“Good girl.” Eli placed his bowl and spoon into the sink, gave Lydia another peck on the cheek, and headed to his room.

Lydia stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror, frowning. She didn’t like what she was wearing. She wasn’t wearing anything fancy, just a simple gray t-shirt and standard blue jeans. Her outfit was perfectly plain and inconspicuous. But that was precisely what was bothering her. There was no personality, no flavor, no…anything. She hated it, she decided. Not that she blamed Eli for it, of course. If anything, she was grateful he even bought them for her, amongst the other similar clothes currently hanging in her closet.

Eli was being so kind…providing for her even when she hadn’t asked. Heck, he was housing her for free. He was housing some strange amnesia-riddled girl with a possibly criminal past for absolutely nothing. In addition to feeding her, clothing her, and taking care of her in every other possible way…

And they were getting more and more serious lately, she wouldn’t feel right asking him for even more…

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“You cut up your clothes??” Eli asked, incredulous.

“Well, just a couple of shirts…and a pair of jeans…”

“Why the hell did you do this?”

“I felt like they could use some more…I dunno, pizzazz?” Lydia sat on the edge of the bed, not sure why Eli was making such a fuss about it. She didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.

“So you cut them? Lydia, if you wanted different clothes, you could’ve just asked me…” He took a long sip of his coffee and placed his mug on the bureau next to the bed.

“Oh but I wouldn’t feel right doing that! I mean, you’ve done way too much for me anyway. And it’s not like I’m not going to wear this stuff.”

Why would you want to wear that stuff in the first place? He wanted to ask, but he kept the thought to himself. “Okay. But I’m definitely taking you shopping now.”

Hi again! It’s been a while.

I can’t believe it’s already the end of October! The past couple of months have gone by in a blur, what with creating a life completely from scratch and…this thing with Eli…

What do I call this thing with Eli? I mean, we’re officially dating now, right? He said so himself. Er, he called me his girlfriend the other day so… I guess you could say it’s kind of been a whirlwind romance. (I dunno, I heard someone say that on TV, and it kind of fits.)

A boyfriend was not the first thing I expected when I got out of the hospital, to say the least.

Honestly it was so awkward in the beginning. It’s not like I remember how to have a boyfriend, you know? But some things did come naturally, to my surprise. I think it’s because my procedural memory is okay, or that’s what Dr. Stuart told me. I guess that means I did a lot of kissing stuff before…

This is a really awkward journal entry. I really hope Eli doesn’t get his hands on this. He’s already been asking if he could read little snippets. I would absolutely die if he read this.

I think I’ve been adjusting well. My personality isn’t as blank a slate as I thought, though, and sometimes I’ll find myself thinking things I didn’t think I would or could think.

…did that make sense? Rereading that sentence confuses me. Anyway, it’s like with the clothes. When I cut and altered them, it’s like I didn’t even need to think about what I was doing. I immediately knew how I wanted them to look, what I had to do to achieve it. And the style was definitely not something eleven-year-old me would wear.

It’s weird finding out what I like. It’s like I should already know…but I don’t.

Holy crap, I think I might just scrap this entry and start over after I have some coffee in my system. (Another thing: who knew I’d love coffee? I’m like addicted to this stuff.) I can’t think straight.

I’ll let you in on a secret here: sometimes I don’t like how by-the-books Eli is about the rules. Seriously, he doesn’t ever do anything “wrong.” Sometimes it’s just not fun. And he kind of has a controlling streak, like he has OCD with people. Just the other day, I was talking to him about Halloween, and how fun it would be if we dressed up as some zombie couple or something, and he kind of shot down the idea. He made it sound really juvenile and a waste of time.

…so we’re not doing much for Halloween.

But I mean, he’s also sweet and funny and really generous, so it’s really not that big of a deal. Now that I think about it, it really would be childish to dress up at our ages. Eleven-year-old me took control for a little bit, but now I get it.

Even though the last thing I remember is being eleven, I’m feeling more and more like eighteen, lately. The more I discover about myself, the surer I feel about my age. As indicated above, I occasionally make slip-ups, but I’m getting better at avoiding them. Yeah…

I’m going to end this here. This was way longer than I’d intended. I’ll try to keep up with this more. 'Til next time.

-Lydia
10/20/11

“These creatures in your dream, the more and more I hear about them…I don’t think they’re made-up, or actual monsters for that matter. Lydia, they sound like mutants.”

“Mutants?” She asked, cocking her head in confusion. She knew what mutants were, of course, she’d seen them on TV and a few times on the street, not to mention had a few mutant classmates back in elementary school. But beyond that, she could not recollect any further interaction with them, especially not any that would warrant all the action in her dreams.

“Perhaps you’ve tangled with some over the years.”

Her confusion compounded. Mutants…why would I deal with mutants…? And deadly mutants at that. A lot of her dream memories seemed to involve her being attacked or chased. Dia certainly wasn’t a mutant, so she had no idea what would’ve prompted her or caused her to be around that crowd. Then again, she didn’t know what would’ve motivated her to do anything…she hardly knew herself at the present moment.

“Are you sure they’re not just nightmares? Some of them really did seem like monsters…”

“It’s possible, but if it’s recurring events and locations, it would be more plausible that they are mutants. Take it as good news, dear. You may be remembering things, however shakily.”

“Okay…”

“Keep updating me with these dreams, okay? If anything new comes up in them,” Dr. Stuart nodded and gave her a reassuring smile.

Lydia had difficulty feeling reassured.

Instantly, at the mention of mutants, Eli’s face darkened. It was a look she had never seen before…it was pretty damn terrifying. Lydia’s heart hammered and she wondered what she had done wrong. Was he angry at her? His eyes were cold and glinted something menacing, and she could only stare at him as he drew away and faced the window.

“Mutants,” he spat, “are horrible aberrations. They’re thugs and lowlifes and…and murderers.”

Her eyes widened at the implication and she struggled to find something to say. She had never seen so much pure hatred resonating from the young man before. She was scared to continue looking at him, but couldn’t break her gaze.

After a tense pause he resumed, saving her from making an awkward reply. “Remember the accident I told you my parents were in? I didn’t want to scare you…”

He paused again, although not to ponder if he should continue or not. His hatred of mutantkind was so all-encompassing and righteous in his view, that he saw no problem with sharing it.

“…One night they were walking home from church,” his tone was so dark and hard; it almost sent a convulsion down her spine, “When a few of those muties came out of nowhere, demanded they hand them their money…when Dad told them they didn’t have any, the animals decided to…to kill them. They took his watch and my mom’s gold necklace—” At this, Eli’s voice broke, and he clenched his fists.

“I’m so sorry,” Lydia murmured, getting up from the couch and walking over to his side.

“I don’t ever want to hear you say the word ‘mutant’ again…not in front of me, not here,” he practically threw the words at her, he said it in an almost accusatory way. Lydia recoiled in shock for moment. He…he’s just upset, she reasoned, reaching for his quivering hand.

“I’m so, so sorry Eli.”

((Continued from this thread.))

The ride home was quiet. Occasionally one of them would cough or clear their throats, but neither said a word. The air in the car was heavy and pressed against Lydia in a way that she thought she might suffocate. Suffocate on awkward silence. Choke on over-thought words and half-hearted defense.

Had she really done wrong? She didn’t know. And was she at fault if she didn’t know? She wasn’t lying when she had told Aedus she’d never seen Eli like this before. And speaking of Aedus, he seemed to think she had done nothing wrong. That she was the victim in this case. If that was true, then why had Eli reacted in that way? Jealousy was one thing, but to pick a fight? She didn’t understand it.

Once they reached the apartment, something exploded. Figuratively, of course. Their apartment did not spontaneously combust. She almost wished it had, because the next fight was one she would have been glad to avoid.

“I know you think I should apologize for fighting with that prick, but I’m not going to.”

“Do we have to do this now?” She didn’t want to do anything.

“Yes. Lyd, you were dancing with a stranger behind my back. Don’t you think you should apologize?”

“What?? Are you kidding me? It wasn’t ‘behind your back,’ and we were just dancing. You’re the one who went all crazy and decided to throw a punch!”

“His hands were all over you. Are you really saying that’s not unusual at all? The only person you’re supposed to be dancing with is me.”

She resisted the urge to just throw her hands up and walk out of the living room. “You saw how crowded it was. I’m sure he didn’t have a lot of places to put his hands.” Dia had a feeling she was making up a ridiculous, flimsy reason, but she didn’t want to admit that she didn’t know things like that were wrong. Everyone else had been dancing like that, making that sort of physical contact (some even more so). How was she supposed to know she wasn’t supposed to do that too?

“And for the record, your little possessive complex is getting really annoying. I don’t belong to you, kay? And you don’t belong to me. So stop ordering me around like I do.”

At this, Eli gave her a derisive look and stomped away to his room, slamming the door behind him.

She slumped onto the couch and placed her head in her hands, wondering how the hell things had turned out that way.

They didn’t speak. They went on with their morning routines without saying a word to each other. It was always that way after they fought, which was funny to say, because they’d only fought so many times over the past months...

Lydia sighed, glancing over at Eli at the table, who was pouring himself a glass of apple juice. She stared back out the window, idly watching the crunchy, dead leaves fly around. The trees were quickly becoming bare as the seasons changed, and she almost shivered just thinking about how cold it probably was outside. Yep, she was definitely still a California girl. She and cold did not mix.

“You want a glass?” The girl flinched, the sudden question taking her by surprise. Did he just address her…? She turned to see him looking at her, his expression unreadable, but it was clear that he was, indeed, talking to her.

“Yeah…sure,” she replied, getting up. Dia didn’t know where to look as she neared the kitchen counter, and settled with staring at her feet. She needed to repaint her toenails, she decided.

“Tell me when to stop,” Eli said, starting to pour the juice into another glass.

“Uh…that’s fine,” she said after half the cup was filled, “…thanks.” She tentatively took a sip, still glancing away from his face.

“I’m sorry.” She almost spit her drink out. He was apologizing? Really? He’d never apologized before, not explicitly, anyway. Not after a fight. Not Eli. Yet there he was with genuine penitence.

“I’m sorry too,” she lied.

She wandered through the streets alone, the sidewalk void of many pedestrians. Essentially, she had evicted herself, she supposed (although she’d probably been two seconds from getting kicked out anyway). And she was absolutely sure she wasn’t welcome back. Ever. Lydia paused and rubbed her eyes. How the hell had she managed to find herself homeless?

Oh yeah. Her anti-mutant boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) went on a rampage after she told him off about his bigotry.

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“Can you just stop it? Mutants aren’t horrible or bad or criminals! Not most of them, anyway. They’re just people like everyone else. You had no right to treat that man like that!”

“He was a mutie! He deserved much worse. Deserves much worse,” Eli snarled, eyes blackening with rage.

“How can you say that? You don’t know him. You can’t judge him like that just because he happened to have purple skin and a tail and—!”

“God, what is wrong with you!? You know what their kind is capable of, and you’re trying to defend them?”

Yes, Lydia knew what mutantkind was capable of. She knew that there were some evil mutants out there, ones who murdered innocent people and tried to destroy the city with their frozen turkey army. But she also knew there were good ones as well. Ones who put their lives on the line to help others and defeat the Turk-zilla monsters that threatened to harm them.

“How can you say that after what happened Saturday? After those mutants you hate so much saved my life? If it weren’t for those mutants, New York City would be gone!”

“Oh yeah? And what about the psychopath who started that whole f***ing rampage?”

“That’s different…”

“He was a monster, Lydia! Just like the rest of them! They’re all monsters!”

“…take a look in the mirror, jackass.”

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And with that, Lyd ran out. She had stomped out with nothing but the clothes on her back and fifteen dollars worth of crumpled bills and loose change in her back pocket. She had absolutely no idea what she was going to do, and the night was fast approaching. She sat down on a park bench, trying to strategize, trying to come up with something.

Firstly, she’d left Aedus’ number at the apartment, and had no phone anyway.

Secondly, she knew no one else (or rather, she couldn’t remember anyone) and she didn’t know the city. She’d only ventured out occasionally during the past couple of months, and never without Eli to guide her.

Thirdly…well, the first two were dismal enough.

She suddenly wished she had her memory back. Or at least a little snippet: someone to contact, info on where she’d been staying before, anything. Absolutely anything. Dia was almost tempted to try and take a nap, somehow dream up some blurry facts. She brought her knees up and buried her face in them, trying to ignore how horrible her situation was.

She tried to keep the shaking at a minimum.

((Continues here.))