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Innocence- Chapter 1

A story about a girl without memories from her past.

PROLOGUE:

It was a dark cold evening. There was something sinister in the air. It was uncomfortably warm. There was a girl walking in bare feet. She had bruises, even scratches, and a long black hair swinging as she moved. She was wearing a white dress with blood stains glistening, just like a fire raging in a snow. She was panting, breathlessly and helplessly running away from something. Ignoring the darkness embracing her, she kept walking as fast as she possibly could with no direction in mind. She couldn't think. She couldn't speak. She couldn't cry. All she knew was run away. She must not stay. She looks to be around 5 or 7 years old, I think.

She cocked her head to her left and saw a metal rail.

Who is this girl? What is she doing in this place at this time? Why is she covered in blood?

She climbed the rail to her feet, grabbing the metal just above her and looked down to somewhat like a thousand-of-feet. She was standing on the bar of a bridge, like she was trying to jump. She gritted her teeth and the blood from somewhere on her head dripped. As she closed her eyes, the gory scenes of incineration came back to her. Could this be her memories? Then why can I see it?

“Father…” she muttered. Her skin began to crawl, and she tried to turn in an instant, but she slipped throwing herself into the depths of hell.

**

CHAPTER 1:

Who am I? What am I? What’s my purpose?

These questions echo in my thoughts, swirling back and forth since the first time I heard it in Philosophy class. For a friendless teenager, it was something that reminds me how it felt like to be alone.

Knocks on the door wrinkled my brows early in the morning. Sensing the cock-crow light seeping through the curtains; I could tell I will be late for class. The sounds of my brother as he tries to wake me up every morning, exasperates me. The thud of his footsteps, calling out my name and the grumbles he would make when he’d be annoyed too.

“You’ll be late for class, Sammy…” Akira said in his usual calm tone, with his back on door and arms crossed to his brawny chest.

I could feel the coldness of the room beyond the bed. Half-awake, a long sigh finally got out of my small lips when he said, “Dad’s waiting, idiot!” So I got up blinking myself awake and mumbled something I couldn’t remember that even Akira failed to hear, and took a bath as fast as I could, ignoring the cold water.

He is wearing a shirt today. Good for him. Akira would usually walk around the house shirtless, showing his chiseled chest, broad shoulders, and awesome abs. It would always embarrass me, really, because most of the time we are alone in the house.

If only dad’s not waiting, I would just ignore him and go back to the dream world . Talking about the dream I had, it is the same with the other nights’ … about that kid covered in blood and fell on a bridge. And every time I would try to remember the kid’s face, my head hurts. A sharp pain breaking my head into half. Seemed like the kid has no face at all (or maybe not). I could not remember. It’s becoming recent ever since my head got hit by some bullies in school. That was when I was trying to get my bag on the pool and someone from behind nudged me on the head and fell on the school pool. I told Akito I just slipped and fell, keeping the bullying a secret from them. I do not want to worry them. I owe them. A lot .

I always wake up late. I could feel Akira thinks that waking me up every day is a drag, since he is the kind of person who always complains. But Akito was the one who asked him about it, which I think is maybe the reason why he is not protesting at all. Akira looks up to Akito very much. He admires whatever he does and whatever he thinks.

I envy them actually. Afterall, I am just an adopted child. My name is Sam. It was a name given to me by a priest in the orphanage where I used to live. Father Emmanuel thought the name fits me. It means ‘the God has heard’ or ‘morning’ and ‘bright’. People with the name Sam have a deep inner desire to use their abilities in leadership, and to have personal independence. They would rather focus on large, important issues, and delegate the details. However, it is a complete opposite of me. I am a very gloomy person. I prefer to be alone on a corner. I am not charming or charismatic, which is not an ideal for a leader, but I do want independence. Like Akira, I look up to Akito. Both of them, actually.

“There you go, Sammy” Akito said, his voice was cheerful as ever, as we arrive in front of the school gate and handed a packed lunched. Whenever I look at him, I could easily recognize the resemblance of him and Akira. They’re like twins. Dark hair and brown eyes, tall and lean, and even their monotone voices (which worry them they send the opposite sex to sleep as soon as they open their mouths) are alike.

“Thanks Akito.” I said and got out of the car.

“Hey! That’s ‘dad’ for you.” He said, and then a lavish sedan honked angrily. “Well, I won’t be home tonight. Just eat with your brother.” Akito said holding his breath, exhaled and bit his lips, forming creases on his cheeks. “Bye!”

Akito and Akira adopted me five years ago from Harrison-Laurent Orphanage somewhere in Region 56. Ah, the region 56, the region surrounded by tall trees as if it’s shading the whole place. A desolated district that the houses are miles apart or even more. The orphanage itself was joyless. The orphans just grew up without feeling the love of a new family. I was lucky. I was only eleven then, sleeping under a tree when Akito found me. He had a very thick beard, and ponytailed his straight black hair, reaching for my hands and asked my name. Puzzled, Akito could easily tell from my big round dark teal eyes. Akira was there too, staring at us. He was very quiet, just observing his father as I grabbed his hand.

From spending years on the orphanage, I never had the courage to ask the people there about how they found me. I was scared, even ‘til now. Having no memories from my past, I’m afraid of what I might find out. I don’t even know how many years I had stayed there. Just like how the other orphans felt: A past is a hopeless memory that should be forgotten. It could never move someone forward. A curse.

Being in the Mizuki family is a blessing to me. A hope. A beginning. Akito and Akira are very kind and generous. They treat me like a real family. Akira’s mother and sister died in a painful ordeal two years before they adopted me. Although they did not mention about it, it was something that I learnt eventually. Uncle Natsume said they died in a fire. They were first raped and were stabbed multiple times. “It was a brutal scene”, he remarked. The suspect was captured right after, and was found out to be a member of a mafia. Due to that nightmare, Akito left the police force and later became a private detective. While, Akira now became a member of the force, elite just like his father once was. He is youngest in the force.

“What are you spacing out for, Ms. Mizuki?” Mr. Smith said and the whole class laughed with him.

I heard those whispered names for me too. Idiot, nerd, loser. It is not new story to me, since I am a laughing stock in school anyway. It really is a mistake for me to be in here. I only got in Ethelstan International School, one of the elite schools known in 214 Regions in the world, because of Akito and Akira’s influence. Not because of my grades. I belong to Class D, which is a very humiliating part for me… Never did I experience this kind of treatment back in the orphanage. I was precious. A joy to the people there, they even told me.

Yeah, laugh all you want , I thought, pulling my dark auburn hair behind my ear.

They think I’m a freak. They say I always give off this strange somber aura that they don’t like to come near me. They say I’m depressing to look; always sulking, thick hair and full bangs, pale skin, big round eyes, large and thick eyeglasses. An outcast.

My life in school sucks. Every time I go here, I always look at my watch; hoping time would run faster so I could go home. Always looking forward to come home where there are people who are looking forward to see me, waiting for me, and worrying for me.

But whenever I see the school’s student council president, I always hope that time would stop. Whenever he is around, life in school changes from gray and black to a pink-colored rose.

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