Perfection in Insanity - Sofia by Allie Chapter 1

,

Who am I? What happened to me? Why can't I remember anything?
Why am I covering for her? What's happening to me? Where is she?
Told from two point of views, one deals with amnesia and the other deals with a horrifying secret. What will happen when that secret is unleashed or she gets her memory back?

Note: I am in the process of writing this, so it might be a while before chapters are finished/more is added.
Sofia and Brady switch as narrators every chapter. Their parts of the story are not the same time frame. Something that happens to be Brady may be on a Monday, but the next chapter is Sofia on ...more  amnesia, disappearances, family, friendship, guilty-conscience, murder, mystery, secrets, teen-romance



Staring down the street, I blinked hard, trying to remember what happened. What day was it? What time was it? What had happened? What was I doing here?

It was dark, the sky shining brightly with stars. I was standing in the middle of the road, the highway. No car passed by me, making me believe it was very late. This highway was often pretty crowded during the day; living in the middle of no where, this was the only road that led to somewhere. The last thing I remember was waking up and going to school. Did I arrive at school? When was that?

My memory was nebulous. I couldn't even remember my own name, my address, anything. I knew I was in Arizona; the cacti on the side of the road were a good indicator that I was somewhere dry. I knew basic, easy things like how to count and to get out of the middle of the road before a car gets the chance to run me over. Did I have my license? Could I have gotten into an accident out here? I was scatterbrained, thinking random things that had no connection to anything.

Should I walk and try to find help? Should I stay out here and wait for someone to find me and possibly die trying? A statistic about this highway popped into my head: in 2010, 2,947 people died in accidents on this highway. The sides of the road were lined with crosses to represent the deaths of people involved in those accidents. It makes for a sad drive sometimes, looking at all the places where people died. Walking seemed like a better idea instead of waiting for my own death. My feet were weary and tired, and I could barely feel them. It didn't feel like they were moving, yet I was no longer in the same place I was before. I was out of the middle, on the side of the road walking in a direction to somewhere I knew not. The only light in the middle of the desert were from the stars and the moon. There was no light in the distance, no clue as to whether or not I was close to a place where I could stop.

It felt like hours of walking, thoughts running through my head before anything happened. No memory of any importance resurfaced, only stupid, not useful things similar to the statistic about the highway. But finally, there were lights in the distance, and they were approaching quickly. I was almost to somewhere. Maybe there I could learn more about me. I broke into a run, desperate.

A sign loomed over me, advertising a restaurant, a pizza shop. A red sign in the window said that it was open still. Maybe it wasn't as late as I had originally thought? I could almost taste the pizza on my tongue, my mouth watering. I probably hadn't had any food in too many hours. There was an odd smell in the air. I thought it smelled like something was burning. That struck me as weird. What pizza shop would burn the food they make, accident or not? They should be experienced and know what they were doing, right? I shook it off as me just being over reactive to everything since I couldn't remember anything else. Better safe than sorry the saying goes, right? The pizza shop looked homey, safe, warm, and comfortable. It looked like somewhere families can go to and feel loved. Ignoring the logic that argued within me about burnt food, I stumbled through the door with the final thought here goes nothing.

Immediately, my senses went into overdrive. The lights blinded me, and I clenched them shut tightly. People were talking so loudly that I had to cover my ears with my hands. I had to have looked like an idiot. I was convinced I was going to pass out, but the tougher side of me prevailed. Someone touched my arm, and I jumped in terror because they scared me near to death.

"It's alright," someone said gently. It sounded like a woman. "I'm not going to hurt you. Just slowly open your eyes and move your hands from your ears. It's not that bad in here once you get used to it."

Her voice was soothing and encouraging. I took her advice and opened my eyes. In front of me stood a woman probably in her early 40s. She had brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and green eyes that gazed imploringly. She made me think of someone who had a good work ethic and was very loving.

"I'm Isabelle Lorenzo. This is my family's restaurant. Are you alright?" she asked, ushering me into a booth and then sliding in across from me. She looked concerned and worried.

Taking a deep breath, I answered the only way I could. "I don't know."

Puzzled, Isabelle looked at me. "What do you mean you don't know? What happened to you? You looked like you walked through, pardon my language, hell to get here."

"I''m not really sure. All I really know is that I walked here from somewhere off of the highway."

"What's your name, hon? Is there someone I can call to come and get you?"

"I don't remember my name, and if there is someone, I don't remember them either. You see, I can't seem to remember anything except for random stuff like statisitcs," I said with a straight face. I didn't blink or smile or even look sad. I just stared on listlessly, fixating on nothing.

Isabelle showed no horrifying reaction to what I had told her. Without missing a beat, she asked me, "Do you know how old you are? You look like you are the same as my daughter, 17."

"I don't know, sorry."

She laughed lightly. "No need to be sorry, hon. Would you like something to eat? You look like you haven't had something to eat in quite some time, and surely you must be hungry. We do make a pretty good pizza here after all," Isabelle said, grinning as she said that last bit.

Nodding, I responded, "Yes, please. Cheese, if you don't mind, please."

Turning towards the counter, she yelled, "Rosa, can you come here? I need you to put a slice of cheese pizza into the oven."

"Can't you do it yourself? I'm kind of busy back here," someone yelled back.

"Rosalie, get off your lazy butt and come help me!"

"Fine, I'm coming. No need to yell. Geez," a girl said as she walked out of the kitchen and behind the counter. She looked just like Isabelle, only younger. She was probably the daughter Isabelle mentioned. She stopped when she saw me sitting with Isabelle. "Who's that?" she said, pointing at me.

I opened my mouth to answer, but Isabelle beat me to it. "She just wandered in all alone. I think she may have amnesia."

"Oh."

Isabelle looked back at me. "Since I think it's a pretty safe bet you aren't from around here and you don't know who you are, would you like to stay with us until everything is sorted out? We can contact the police and the doctors amd help you with everything, if you would like. And if it's okay with my family," she said, looking at her daughter.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," she said.

Isabelle then turned toward me. "My husband is at home with our son. I am confident he won't have a problem with such a polite girl staying with us for a while. So it's up to you now."

I looked back and forth between Rosa and Isabelle. Isabelle was looking at me with a hopeful, caring expression. Rosa, on the other hand, was looking at her hands as if there was something extraordinary down there.

"Thank you. Yes."

"Wonderful!" Isabelle said. "This is my daughter, Rosalie, the one I spoke of earlier. She goes by Rosa more commonly." I looked at Rosa, and she smiled at me, giving me a slight wave. "Now, what should we call you? Do you have any recollection of what your name was?"

I shrugged. I didn't know and really didn't care. Isabelle looked at me. "You, hon, look like a Sofia. How's that? A pretty Italian name?"
"Sure," I said.
Rosa spoke up. "Well, Sofia, welcome to the family."

Previous chapter

Chapters
Chapter 1: Sofia
Chapter 2: Brady
Chapter 3: Sofia
Chapter 4: Brady
Chapter 5: Sophie





Labels: