What’s your name?
“Uh …” I mutter, my voice rough on the edges, just like my body feels. “I … I …”
I want to answer, but no matter how hard I try … I can’t. Why? Why don’t I fucking know my own name?
“Kan hij wel Nederlands?” another guy asks.
“Yes, I can fucking talk Dutch.” I cough a couple of times. My lungs feel as though I’ve breathed in iron. “But I prefer English,” I add even though I have no fucking clue why.
In fact, now that I think about it, I don’t know anything at all.
Not about where I am or why or how I even got here.
“Can you tell me your name?” the guy asks again.
“Liam.”
I know my name … I just don’t know how I know.
“Where do you live?”
I frown, confused about why I can’t recall even though it feels like it’s on the tip of my tongue.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know your own address?” The guy asking me looks as confused as I am, and it only makes me more uneasy.
Someone shines a bright flashlight in my eyes. “Hij ziet er niet goed uit.”
He doesn’t look okay.
The third gets up and fishes his phone from his pocket. “Ik bel wel een ambulance.”
He’s gonna call an ambulance. Hospital. Connections. People. Danger.
No!
I instantly lunge up and grasp his wrist, forcing him to stop. “Don’t.”
He looks at me like I’ve gone insane.
“Don’t call the hospital. No ambulance. Nothing,” I say.
“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you,” he says, jerking himself free from my grip. “How did you even get up that quick?”
“Just don’t,” I say. “I can’t go there.”
I don’t know what possessed me to attack him, but I do know one thing.
Hospitals and anything official like police stations are dangerous, and I don’t even fucking know or remember why I know that information. It’s infuriating.
I clutch my own head and press hard to try to force myself to remember, but not a single memory comes to the forefront of my mind. None.
“Fine, if you’re sure,” the guy says, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “But I’m not gonna get in trouble for it.”
He walks off and leaves me with two others, who seem suspicious of me, and I can’t blame them. I don’t even know if I can be trusted.
“Where am I?” I ask.