Man in the White Suit

"Help me!"

Two little words that mean everything to me at this moment. Two little words that I feel will save my life.

Somehow, one hand manages to escape its hold. All I need is that one hand. I jab whoever is behind me in the ribs with my elbow, all the anger and fear and pain put into it. More than just escaping, I want them to feel everything I've felt inside of my heart. He yelps, falling back and letting go of my other arm. It isn't happening in slow motion like you'd see in the movies or read in books. It is quick, with no room for mistakes or hesitation. I must leave everything to instinct, fearing all but the best possible solution.

My fist comes forward and punches the guy in the nose who ripped my shirt. The other hand swings around with as much force as I can manage, and it contacts someone's throat, throwing him off balance and into a coughing fit. I lean back, kicking the person in front of me, anchoring myself against the ground with my elbows to get more force into the kick, and getting some distance between us. If nothing else, I will go down fighting. My body is throbbing and aching, and I'm sure I broke a knuckle or two, but my blood is boiling, fear is soaring, and I refuse to be weak.

They all fall to the ground, one by one, groaning in pain and shock. I'm tired, almost too tired. Regrettably, I'm afraid that I don't have enough energy to get away. I manage to scramble and stumble over my own feet as I try to back up. I bump into someone.

Another one?!

"Please, stop!" I scream as I spin around to face the newcomer. This person is tall. I must tilt my head back to look up at them. I hurriedly cover whatever is exposed and whimper. I don't have the strength left to fight someone as prominent as him.

His clothes look much more expensive than the hooligans I bumped into and much more dignified. His white suit and tie and shoes sparkle under the moonlit night.

"What are you peasants doing on the walk?" His voice is smooth and stern, and he spits the words peasants as if the mere thought of the word brought him distaste. Even though he'd asked, he sounded like he didn't really care for the answer. He holds a bored expression on his face as he stares at the men on the ground. It's like he hasn't even noticed me at all.

The group stares for a few seconds, a cowardly expression taking over their features. Another man, wearing a pink shirt and tie under his white suit, steps forward, a stunningly beautiful woman clinging to each arm. He's flirting with them in a sweet, charming voice. The boys must have recognized him too because once they see him, they take off running. In the blink of an eye, they're gone.

I sit there, trembling in disbelief in front of the man who just saved me, far from decent. I'm too disturbed and traumatized to even think of thanking him. "Oh my, seems we have a streaker." Comments the second man in his delicate voice. My head shoots up to look at him. The two women are glaring at me with such antipathy like I am nothing but feces on the side of the road. The guy that the women are clinging to, on the other hand, is staring at me with great interest, slightly bewildered by my state of wear as If he hadn't just seen the men who did this to me.

Strength slowly building back into my legs, I spring to my feet and bow quickly, arms covering as much of my chest as I can manage. I don't know what I'm supposed to do in this situation because it was very apparent that these men are much richer than the place that I have come from. "I-I'm not a streaker, sir." I straighten back up to study them. "Th-Thank you… um… for scaring them off and saving me." I can't help but stutter. They have such a strong ambiance about them that it makes me feel slightly intimidated. I don't know how else I'm supposed to thank the more prosperous part of society or if there even is any difference between the two.

My savior scuffs as I quiver uncomfortably and chillingly. The air is brisk from the absence of the sun. He crosses his arms and throws his nose into the air, displeased, showing what I can assume is his superiority over me. My teeth bite down on my lower lip, embarrassment flooding my cheeks. "I have never been bowed to before! Oh, how exciting! I like this girl; let us keep her!" the second man exclaims in elation, breaking free of the girls and tugging on the first guys' sleeve in a child-like manner. I rub my feet together, the air growing crisper by the minute, as I watch on in puzzlement.

"Do you not have enough women…?" the white-suited man sighs, obviously annoyed.

"Get rid of those two!" Pinky says, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the two women. Both squeal in complaint, stomping their heels into the pavement. Pinky angles to them, a sickly-sweet smile stretching across his lips. "Sorry, my sweet candies, but I no longer have a use for you." He gives them a small wave before he grabs hold of his sleeve, tugging it back and revealing a pink, metallic watch clinging desperately to his wrist.

He pushes a little control on the side, and a hologram screen appears. He tries a series of complicated, electronic buttons that I cannot see from my perspective. A loud pop resounds throughout the night as his screen vibrates in confirmation. The two women scream and throw their hands into the air, falling to their knees in despair. With one last smile, the screen gives a buzz and vanishes back into the watch. I hadn't noticed a thick, metal collar around the girls' neck abruptly unlocks, and it batters into the ground. After that, the women sink into the ground further and cry hysterically, whining and ripping at their own hair.

The man turns to me promptly, grinning confidently. "Ready?" I assume that he's talking about putting one of those collars on me.

"No, thank you. I would just like to go home, please." My voice comes out soft and slow as I think up the words along the way, trying to be as polite as I can. The first man smiles marginally, holding back a laugh. He's not able to hold back for too long. In mere seconds, his laughter fills the night with angelic, songful yips, which only makes him laugh harder and curl over himself, clenching at his stomach for dear life.

"Did you hear her?" he barks in between his laughter. "You just got rejected by a lowly peasant!" he continues to speak like it was the most ridiculous and hilarious thing to ever happen.

"Oh, hush now, Zero! She is fairly confused as to what is going on!" Pinky whines, trying to excuse the rejection.

"Yes, I may be confused, but I am certain that I do not want to be your slave." My cheeks puff in discontent. Why would I want to? Zero, as Pinky had called him, only laughs harder. His face is entirely red with amusement, and I swear he'll collapse from the lack of air he is getting.

"Slave?! Oh no, my sweet candy! You would not be a slave. I treat all my lovely little pets very well. You will live a life much more extravagantly than you are now! Oh, we will have a ball!" Pinky corrects. I bluntly ignore him.

"Zero. Is that your name?" I size up the laughing man, hoping he'd stop long enough to answer my question. His laughter slowly subsides to chuckles, and soon enough, he's once again scowling down at me.

"Oh, sorry, dearest! So impolite of us! I am Sterlo, and this is my dear friend, Zero. What is your name, you cute little thing?" Sterlo chirps. I balk back as blood rushes to my cheeks. I know my reddened face is clearly visible in the moonlight.

"O-oh, I'm…." I pause as it finally sinks in; I have no choice but to face the question that I have been avoiding this entire time. Who am I? I'm not Silvia… that life is no longer an option for me. Either way… I wasn't her… I didn't feel like her. Suddenly, I begin to lose myself. "I don't know, to be perfectly honest." My voice sounds as disorientated as I feel. My lips quiver at the thought of life with no identity. I don't have a home to go back to. No… I never had a home. My head snaps back so quickly that it cracks in several places. I watch the two men with widened eyes, tears flowing down my face in pain.

"What do you mean, 'I don't know'?" Zero finally speaks, scowling at me even harder.

"Well, I've forgotten. Not only that but, I've lost my chance to remember. So, as of now, I am no one." I hesitate to say anymore, my tongue slipping past my drying lips to trace my lower rim. "I don't know who I am…."

Sterlo stares at me, his eyes vast, and his hands twitch defiantly as if they want to hold and comfort me. "You have… amnesia?" his voice comes out slowly.

Zero's eyes don't leave my face either, his tux billowing in the frigid wind. I shudder, in no denial that I may end up freezing to death out here. I glance back at Zero, caught in his gleam. White is such a lovely color on him; it went well with his highly light blonde hair. If it could get any more delicate, I would bet it would be the same shade as his outfit. My body begins to feel very heavy and sluggish, and I, too late, grasp how tired I really am. My eyes roll up into the back of my skull, and my lids flutter at an increasingly slow rate. Zero's shout reverberates in the hollow of my mind, but I can't comprehend what it means. The last thing I feel is my face smashing into the ground. I guess I have reached my limit…

Before my lids drift shut, I see something glimmer. Something I know would stick with me in my dreams.

White, like snow. It's silky and smooth, shiny, and perfect, the color of innocence. I never had much care for white, but… now that I think about it, it isn't so bad. It's such a neutral yet angelic color. Maybe the man who wore it so well is, too, on the inside. My savior is dastardly and mysterious. Something about him clicks in me… it flicks a switch in my brain that had grown moldy, dusty, and rusted. There is flashing in my head, a memory so close. Then my eyes shut, and I no longer remember what it was that I was remembering.

Silvia….