Page 3 of Lost Petal

Chapter 1

Petal

Everything I perceive lacks the reassuring familiarity I so desperately seek.

And that includes my own body.

Still sobbing, I lift my hands, slowly caressing my tear-drenched cheeks, following the outline of my jaw like a blind person trying to familiarize themselves with someone else’s facial features. I can feel my fingertips grazing along my face, my skin prickling under the touch as if it were that of a stranger. I lean forward, lowering my gaze, and long ash-blonde hair falls down my shoulders, trailing along the outline of my breasts.

Holding my hands in front of my face, I turn them back and forth, wondering about the faint red lines that circle my wrists. Where do these marks come from? Did someone tie me up? What else did they do?

I know this body. I must know it, because it’s mine.

But I have no recollection of living in it.

My breathing hikes, turning erratic and beyond control once again while the room starts to spin.

No. I can’t lose it. I need to stay focused.

My hands wander down, tracing my collarbones before they reach the soft flesh of my breasts, under which I can feel my pained heart beating furiously. I cup my left breast, pressing gently as I try to calm myself down. The hammering slows, but it’s no less violent under my touch.

This is so strange. Everything is strange to me, even the touch of my own body. My boobs feel heavy and too big compared to everything else, and I feel terribly exposed as they almost spill out of the ridiculous gown I’m wearing.

What the hell is this? I would never put on something like this.

Or would I?

How can I not even know something this mundane about myself?

I raise my head, my eyes latching on to the only thing in this room that holds a promise for answers.

The door.

A deep inhale prepares me for another attempt at getting up on my feet.

This second try is more successful than the first. There’s no elegance in the way I climb up, supporting myself on the leather-button-tufted bench and swaying like a drunk, but at least I manage to stand. I take a deep breath before I stagger toward the door like a newborn deer, pretty much falling onto the door handle. My fingers curl around it with desperate tension, as if I were holding on for dear life.

I shouldn’t be shocked, or even surprised, but I still can’t stop my heart from sinking when I confirm that the door is, in fact, locked. The handle doesn’t even move when I work it, seemingly ridiculing me with its stubbornness to follow my intrusion.

Now that I’m standing so close in front of it, I notice the hatch at the center of it. It’s about one foot wide and almost three inches high, located at the height of my chest. I’m not even sure if it really is a hatch, but if it is, it can only be opened from the outside. Of course.

I don’t know what else to do, so I resort to the only thing that comes to mind: violence. I curl my right hand into a fist and bang against the door, hoping to create some commotion and noise as the door clanks in its hinges.

But I’m too weak to leave such an impact on the heavy wood in front of me. The door remains firm, not rattling, not succumbing to my assault in the slightest. It’s frustrating, to say the least.

Yet I don’t stop until the side of my hand starts to hurt. Gently rubbing it, I step back, glaring at the door through narrow eyes. This dumb thing. I want to burn it to the ground. There’s nothing else here, nothing and no one I could blame for my predicament.

Though “predicament” seems too small a word for this.

All I have is this locked, stubborn gateway—and myself.

“Hello?” I croak, feeling dumb a moment later. Even if there were someone at the other side of this door, they probably wouldn’t hear me, because this stupid thing is sturdy enough to suggest it’s soundproof.

But I can’t stop myself.

“Hello? Is someone out there?”

Seriously, what do I expect? A confused old lady, hastily unlocking the door from the other side and greeting me with an aghast look as she says: “Oh my God, dear. I totally forgot about you! Let’s get you out of here!”

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