"Don't leave me, don't leave me," he whispered to the dark haired woman in his arms.

Her blood gushed over his hands and drenched his shirt, but he only held her tighter, trying to keep her alive through sheer will.

"No," he sobbed as she slowly vanished. The red stain on his hands was the only proof she ever existed.

As he stared at his empty arms he felt himself fading away -- disappearing -- until all he could see was a bright white light.

And then darkness.

-------

He opened his eyes and the details of the dream melted away.

Ignoring the pounding in his head, he tried to sit up. He could barely move.

Quickly, he realized his arms were pinned behind him and he was alone.

He blinked and tried to control the sick feeling in his stomach. He hadn't had a headache like this since...but his past was gone.

Don't panic, he thought as his heart raced and he felt the cold floor against his cheek and bare arms.

Desperately he tried to remember anything about his life, but his memory was as blank as the white walls of the room that held him.

Okay, forget about where you might have been, concentrate on where you are.

He looked down at his clothes: T-shirt and sweat pants. Not much help.

The medium sized room had a concrete floor and no windows that he could see from his current position. If he reached out with his fingertips he could feel the slightly rough texture of the wall. The noxious smell let him know it had been freshly painted.

"No, they weren't on his computer or his phone.... Yes, we tried other combinations.... Look, do you want the information or not? Don't worry, he'll talk." A woman entered the room followed by two men. She closed her cell phone and placed it in the holder on her belt. Her blonde hair was tied back and she would have been pretty if not for the blank expression on her face.

One of the men hauled him to his feet and the world spun precariously but he closed his eyes briefly and tried to ignore the sudden nausea.

She stepped in front of him. "Tell me the access codes and I'll let you go."

"What?"

"The access codes," she repeated.

He shook his head, "I don't --"

He felt a flash of pain as the other man punched him in the side. Gasping, he fell forward slightly, held up only by the tight grip on his arms.

"Don't waste my time. Tell me what I need to know," she said.

"I think you've made a mistake. I don't know what you're talking about."

Another punch hit his torso and then another. He struggled to speak.

"You can do whatever you want to me but I can't tell you what I don't know!"

He was beginning to think that maybe this was also a dream.

"Yes, yes I can."

She glared at him and turned her attention to the man standing next to him. "Give me your knife," she said, and the man handed her what looked like a pocketknife. She snapped it open.

His pulse quickened as he looked at the knife, noticing the way the light reflected off the blade and imagining what she might be planning.

"Please, I don't know who you think I am, but I can't help you --"

"I know exactly who you are." She turned back to the man standing next to him. He could see the anticipatory look in the man's eyes and fear washed over him.

"Hold him!" she said.

Instinctively he began to struggle against the two men, stopping only when the blade touched his upper arm.

"I can't tell you anything."

"I'd like to really hurt you but it would be better for everyone if you were returned relatively unharmed."

He hissed as she slipped the sharp point under his skin.

"However, plans can change."

"I don't know anything, really, I can't…."

"How do you feel now that I'm the one in control? Not so tough now, are you? But, you know this is nothing compared to the way your government treats its prisoners. And I'm giving you an easy way to end *your* suffering."

He bit his lip as she dug the knife deeper.

"You want me to stop? Tell me what I want to know. Just a few numbers and letters and you can go home."

"I don't have any information…just let me go I won't --"

She smiled coldly. "You can't fool me. I need those codes. We need those codes."

"I don't know who you are! I don't know what you're talking about!" He cried out as she twisted the knife, widening the cut.

"Shut up! Just...shut up. I know that you're lying to me. You know exactly who I am and you're the only one who would have automatic access to these codes!"

It wasn't a case of mistaken identity, he realized quickly. This was information he must have known.

She must have noticed his sudden lack of attention because she pulled the knife out and held it against his throat.

"You think you're so smart. Always thinking ahead, but I bet you never thought you'd see me again."

The look of intense hatred on her face was almost more frightening than the knife.

She was holding the razor-sharp blade steadily against his jugular and he was afraid that if he said the wrong thing she'd apply more pressure. He knew she could easily slit his throat without hesitation.

Something about her was familiar and the thought that an obvious psychopath was the only thing he recognized was too frightening to contemplate.

She knew him and wanted to see him hurt. He tried to remember their connection and could only vaguely think that maybe he'd wronged her in the past. Try to apologize, he thought suddenly. "I'm sorry if I ever hurt you in the past I'm sure that you didn't deserve it and I was probably wrong and if you could just let me go I won't tell anyone anything. But I really can't help you and I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," he said quickly, his words spilling into each other like the blood pouring out of the cut on his arm.

She looked at him and sneered. He regretted his attempt almost instantly.

"Sorry? You're sorry? You help a government that is responsible for thousands of deaths and for the rape and torment of innocent people and you tell me you're sorry? You've killed and tortured people and you're sorry? You don't get to be sorry!"

Suddenly she stabbed him twice in his upper right thigh. He screamed, tears slipping down his face. If not for the men holding him he would have collapsed and he gritted his teeth against the pain. A glimpse of the woman in his dream appeared and he wondered if she could heal these wounds.

"I just need those codes," his tormentor continued her face contorted in anger, "and I'm going to get them by any means necessary. I know you understand that concept."

She blinked and she was again expressionless.

The sharp pain was making it difficult to think, but he had a sudden realization that maybe this was a legal interrogation. His jumbled mind couldn't remember anything about his own life, but he figured the woman was speaking English and without an accent which meant he was most likely in America. Could I be a criminal? A terrorist? he thought. Oh, God, what have I done, who am I?

"I have the right to a lawyer. You can't treat me like this!" He tried desperately.

She stared at him; her hand stopped in mid-air, and she almost lost her grip on the knife’s handle.

"What?" Her voice went up an octave.

"If you work for the government and I'm being accused of something, I can't remember what I've done. If you kill me you'll never get any answers and no matter how much you hurt me I still won't be able to tell you anything."

"Why do you keep lying to me? I really thought you were smarter than this."

"I'm telling you the truth."

"Really?"

He nodded slightly, feeling wetness run down his leg and wondering how much blood he was losing.

“Maybe you'll be more helpful when I drag Kim in here and force you to watch *her* bleed," she said in a calm voice. Leaning in she glanced over at the man on his left, the one who seemed to enjoy seeing *him* in pain. "Then maybe I'll let him have some fun with her."

The grip on his arms tightened as if the men expected him to attack her.

With a malevolent grin she stepped back, waiting for his reaction.

“Who?” he looked up and asked in a weak voice, surmising from the way she said it that the name should be significant to him.

Her smile vanished and she suddenly looked a little lost.

"You didn't use the drugs, did you?" She asked the man on his right.

"We were just told to get him here," the man on his left said defensively.

She moved the knife back against his throat and leaned in again, one hand on his shoulder.

"What is your name?" she whispered against his ear.

He swallowed and felt the blade move. "I don't know," he said softly.

She slid her hand up his shoulder and grabbed onto his hair, causing him to gasp as she forced his neck back at an awkward angle. "You're sure?"

"Yes!" he answered on the verge of absolute panic, feeling tears sting his eyes and focusing only on self preservation.

She pulled back and looked at the men holding him.

"He's of absolutely no use to us if he can't even remember who he is! Fuck!" She yelled angrily and threw the knife against the wall.

"I can't even believe that you two fucked this up so badly. You're coming with me," she said to the man on his left.

For a brief moment he was relieved that she wasn't leaving him alone with that man.

"You, stay here with him. Make sure this isn't one of his lies," she said to the man on his right, the one who seemed more reasonable.

The minute the other man let go he slid to the ground, one leg awkwardly straight in front of him the other bent for support. Blood loss was making his head feel lighter and the throbbing behind his eyes was intensifying.

She walked out without saying another word, grabbing her phone as she left and distantly he heard her running upstairs.

"Do you know who I am?" Talking was an effort and he winced as he tried to move into a more comfortable position.

"Sure," the man answered, looking at him.

"Who am I?"

"You're a killer who works for the government."

His hope died a little. He thought that maybe this should seem familiar, but it was a situation he couldn't understand.

"What government?"

"Man, your brain really is fucked up isn't it?"

"I'm just trying to..."

"At this point it might be safer if you don't know anything. She's not the most stable person."

"Can you at least tell me what the codes are for?" His head was feeling both light and heavy and he felt the world wanting to slip away.

"I'm just hired muscle. You'll have to ask her."

The man folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

There was a minute or two of silence.

“And Kim…?” he started to ask but the door opened again.

The woman walked back in alone carrying a cell phone. He noticed hers was still on her belt. "I thought I'd use your phone for this call," she said.

He eyed her warily, but felt like he was viewing the world through a veil.

“Well?” She asked the man leaning against the wall.

“He has no fucking clue what’s going on.”

"Really?" she asked slowly. She flipped open the phone and pressed a button.

"Don't say anything and don't bother trying to trace this...” she said coldly into the phone. She walked out of the room.

Who is she talking to? He wondered, struggling to stay alert. As he looked down he saw the entire front of his pants was soaked in blood.

He heard her talking but couldn’t make out any words. She walked back holding the phone to her ear.

"Call me back at this number...oh you know this number, I'm using his cell phone right now.... You want further proof?"

She crouched next to him and held the phone against his ear. "Say hello," she said.

"Hello."

"Are you...," he heard a worried female voice on the other end.

He wondered if she should sound familiar.

The woman pulled the phone away and stood up. "Ten minutes or I'll kill him." She snapped the phone closed and looked over at him.

She seemed to regard him critically for a few moments and leaned over to touch his face. Her fingers felt familiar, and he was horrified to find that he wanted to lean into the contact.

“What did my sister ever see in you?” She whispered without expecting an answer.

“He might not last another ten minutes, Marie,” the hired muscle interrupted her.

Marie turned to look at the hired muscle, her smile chilling even in profile. “He’s lived through worse,” she said and turned back to him, "haven’t you?”

She laughed and walked away.

Have I?

He leaned his head against the wall and numbly watched the blood from his gaping wound seep into the floor.

END

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