It’s not meant for living things.
A morgue is meant for the dead.
The sound of rushing water echoes and fills the room.
It bounces awkwardly off the walls like a stranger, infiltrating the ear drums of the dead.
The air gushes through the nose, the body jerks as the heart jumpstarts, the muscles contract.
The newly revived rolls onto the floor, the muscles filling with blood, oxygen reaching the brain, all functions returning to normal.
“There there. It’s a bit of a shock I know.” A soothing voice says, stroking the newly warm back. “Let me open a light.”
The eyes burn under the unexpected light and a newly functionable arm lashes out and hits a stomach.
The voice loses her breath and falls on the ground. “Oof!”
The body leans against something and blinks the blood spots out of her eyes. Her heart is still pumping wildly. Her vocal chords manage to utter sounds.
“What’s – I don’t – him”
“Calm down…oof that hurt.” The voice says still clutching her gut. She places a hand on the bare shoulder. The golden eyes are too dazed to react.
It takes a few moments, but the excited heart calms down, and her thoughts clear.
“How are you feeling?” The blue-haired woman asked.
“I can’t remember a thing. That can’t be good. My memory is gone.” She laments.
“It couldn’t be helped. You should see it as a gift.”
“Who are you?” The amnesiac asks – no demands.
“It’s a bit ironic I suppose. The one person who can remember me has forgotten me as well.” She sighs. “Sure I’m trying a new look, but it’s not that different is it?”
“How is not remembering anything a gift? It feels like I’ve lost too much by not knowing. I have this pain and I don’t know why.” The woman clutches her hair, grinds her teeth.
“It’s the gift of a clean slate. Believe me, you need it.”
“The grim reaper.” She utters like a curse and a blessing.
“Yes…you remember him?”
“Damien. That’s the only name I know.” With a distinct feeling, that it’s the cause of her pain.
“It’s thanks to him that you’re here now. See? There’s nothing to worry about.” The blue lady smiles.
“And my memories?”
“I don’t know. But enjoy this new chance you’ve been given. Don’t waste it.” She replies, climbing to her feet.
“Where is he?”
“I have to go Assaria.” She smiles apologetically.
“Assaria?” The name flashes true in her mind. “That’s me.”
The lady grins. “Maybe you will get them back.”
Assaria Clavez. Alone now, she looks around the room, looking for an answer or a memory.
But there is only the dead here.