A door begged to be opened in the corner of the room. I walked cautiously towards it and decided it was now or never.
I opened the door.
The street was alive, bustling and jostling in all directions. The road was practically clear from cars compared to what she could remember in the 21st century.
What could she remember?
Her name was Abbi. She was 23 years old and in university, well, used to be in university before she had the 'accident'.
It came back to her in small scraps at a time.
She reached behind her and sat on the small step.
She had been training to be a lawyer. She saw glimpses of the lawyer who taught her all she knew.
Then she went to a crime scene. There were bodies everywhere and blood covered the surfaces.
She had walked around the house and...
She couldn't remember any more.
Then and there she promised herself she would get back home... where-ever home was.
She stood up, brushed the dust from her clothes and walked. She didn't know where to go, but she was confident she would get there when she was supposed to.