Make Me

“The last time she was found was on a highway where she killed a random guy after sharing a short passionate moment,” Blake said.

“And by ‘passionate moment,’ you mean . . .'' Riley laughed. “Well, exactly what we planned for,” he added. “This calls for a celebration then, my brother.”

“Indeed, master,” Blake replied, bowing his head.

“Ah . . . Amber Greene. If you only knew . . .” Riley smirked, smoking his pipe.

***

Amber

After finding the apartment, I went inside the room and looked around, wandering my eyes at the damage I did from the ceiling to the broken chairs and tables. Running my hands on my hair, I squatted and bowed as I closed my eyes.

Deep inside, I felt lost and my soul was crying for help. I felt like my life had been played, and the urge in me finding myself was so strong. I had to do something to find the answers to my questions.

I slammed my fist on the wall, expressing my intense anger as tears flowed from my eyes. I slowly sat on the floor, extending my legs and closing my eyes. Giving myself a moment of silence, I tried to figure out where to begin. When I opened my eyes, something under the bed caught my attention: a folder. I reached for it and was shocked to see its content as I scanned the pages.

“What is this? Wait, this is me. Why is there everybody looking for me?” I uttered as I continued to scan the files.

“Wait, I remember that. I remember going to the orphanage with . . . with . . .a cat! Yeah, the cat!” I talked to myself. “And then the cat was . . . wait . . . the cat was talking? A talking cat?! Right, right the cat was talking to me. Wait! So that’s what these poops are all about! Now that icky thing makes sense.”

I sat on the bed and heard someone knocking on the door. I opened it and saw an old man in his 70s.

“Ahm . . . yeah?” I said.

“Hello, Amber. How are you doing? Did you like your room?”

“Ah, yeah I do. Thanks, grandpa.”

He smiled, showing four front teeth missing. “That’s good. I’m so sorry, this apartment is already old but still looks good for a place to stay.” He smiled.

“Oh, it’s alright. Ah, if I may ask, when did I start renting here? Ahm . . . accounting purposes.” I laughed awkwardly.

“Just yesterday, my dear.”

“Ah . . . yeah. Okay, thanks.” I answered, nodding my head.

“If you need anything, my room is downstairs. The little blue door,” he said, descending the stairs.

“Will do,” I said, closing the door.

I looked around and finally found a pen. After tearing one page among the files attached to the folder, I wrote down everything that would come to my mind. From the day I forgot myself until regaining my senses yesterday. Waking up at the hospital, discovering somebody looks like me having the same name, growing up and changing my face, having a steamy affair on the highway and . . . I smiled to myself.

“That guy was hot. Where could I find him again? Never mind,” I dismissed the thought. “Ah! Why can’t I remember anything! All that stuck in my head was the cat’s stinky poop!” I sighed in frustration and laid my face on the table. “Why isn’t there any mirror in here? Are you guys afraid of your own faces?” I muttered to myself.

***

Micca

“Barachiel, are you gonna free me now?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you soon. For now, back to business,” Barachiel said, resuming my suffering.

This became my life ever since I came back to heaven—tortured for an unknown reason and punished for a crime I didn't want to commit. Should I turn against heaven now?

***

Amber

Walking on the streets, I tried to find the place where everything started. Finally, I went inside a familiar café.

“Hello, Micca. It’s good to see you again?” Haven greeted me.

“Here’s your pasta and soda. Bon appetit!” she said to a customer who thanked her.

“Wait, what did you just call me?” I asked.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re still having amnesia.” Haven laughed, holding the empty tray on her chest. “You told me your name the first time you came here with blood on your head. Gangster stuff alike, remember? Have a seat, young lady.”

She walked towards the counter and took some pancakes and a glass of cold lime juice. I sat as I was told and started to feel the odd familiarity of the place.

“The last time you came here, you were searching for a person named Human, and to be honest, that name was hilarious.” She laughed. “Here, have some food to eat.”

“Ahm . . . I know this is weird. I actually don’t know you, and I don’t remember you at all. I just felt that this place is very familiar, and I was hoping that you could help me.” I sighed.

“Still haven’t found what you’re looking for, Micca? Have you tried the birth registry office like I told you? I think you need to see a doctor.”

I picked up the fork and sliced the pancakes.

“No, my name is not Micca. My real name is Amber Greene . . . in paper, and this folder contains everything about me. Plus, I am definitely not crazy, if you might ask. I am not a lunatic. Here, take a look,” I said, showing her my files.

She took the folder and scanned the pages.

“Thanks for the pancakes. Tastes good, by the way. The last time I ate pancakes was before my parents died. My life changed since then.”

Haven exchanged her glances between me and the files on the table.

“Your records show that you were sent to Little Oaks when you were sixteen, then you left the orphanage in that same year. Are you kidding me, young lady?”

“What do you mean?” I said after gulping the glass of soda.

“It says that you were released in the same year.”

“I know, I saw that, and the reason is death,” I whispered. “But I am alive! How could I die when I am f*****g alive?”

Haven facepalmed and shook her head.

“I think I’ll be in a mental institution in no time, Micca. First, you were looking for a person named Human. Now, you’re telling me your name is Amber Greene, and you died.”

“Yup. You think you're the first to think about that? Try me. I don't even know who Human or Micca is.”

“Oh, heaven help me," she muttered to herself. "Then go back to Little Oaks, and start your search from there.”

“Great. Thanks for suggesting something brilliant I think I've already done. You're such a great help. Thank you, idiot,” I said, standing up and walking out the door.

Haven froze and shook her head slowly. “Good luck. Don’t forget to return the files you've stolen, young lady. Let me know when your brain is back to normal." Haven stood up and cleaned the table. "Once upon a time, you called me an angel. Now, you just called me an idiot, ” she muttered to herself.

Outside, I touched my stomach and realized I didn't feel anything. The pain was gone, and the curiosity just won't stop building up in my mind.

“What is happening to me?"