Why? Why? Why?

A girl alone.

A dark prison cell.

A horrible crime.

Put them all together.

And…

This is the result.

***

Dark. Dank. Depressing. 

That’s what this place is.

Jail.

The colors are all the same. Grey and black. Black and grey. 

The dark place sucks the light out of people, leaving them hollow. 

The atmosphere is nothing out of the ordinary (for a jail)...Yet there’s something missing.

I don’t know why I’m here…

***

Why am I here?

Why should I be here?

I’m no criminal. At least I don’t think I am.

Why? Why? Why?

***

My name is Maxine. You can call me Max. I’m 19. My mother died in a car crash. My father’s a police officer.

That’s all I remember.

Only that bit from my entire nineteen years of life.

No amount of thinking helps me find my lost memories.

I wish I had them. I’m empty without them.

***

Days pass. Nothing changes.

Different policemen visit the prison each day, each carrying weapons to use on prisoners who escape. Nothing unusual.

Until one day, a particular police officer catches my attention. Judging by all his medals and commanding voice, he was someone who held power here.

But the most important part: His appearance triggered a memory…

***

“Miss Dexter, “ he says, narrowing his eyes.

A sigh “... Why did you do this...I almost don’t believe it, but…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“I know your father...It’s ironic that the daughter of a police officer, is the person who he has to put in jail.” The police officer laughed at his joke.

Not funny.

I simply stared at the police officer, saying nothing.

“Hmm, shouldn’t have said that...I’m sorry.”

Me: Nothing.

“...Alright, I guess I should get to the point. You see, your father saved my life once…”That’s why-” he stopped abruptly and cleared his throat. “That’s why,” he said more clearly, “I give you permission to defend yourself once more. The court proved you guilty...but we can try again. Ms. Dexter, do you have anything to say?”

“I-I don’t know…” I finally croak.

“Ms. Dexter, we’re being serious here.”

“I’m ...sorry, but I don’t understand.”

The police officer looks up at my bandaged head.

“You’ve got a serious head injury, you almost wouldn’t have survived...which could mean that your memory ...I’m sorry this happened to you.”

***

The flashback ended there. I was left with a slight headache, gently pounding on my temples. 

He didn’t have to continue. I lost my memory - my entire life’s memory, because of a head wound.

Great.

I wonder how that happened. Who did it. Or what caused it?

But I still don’t know why I'm here. In my gloomy brick walled and iron barred cave. 

Even bears have more luxury.

Why am I forced to endure this?

Why? Why? Why?

***

I can’t help but think of my mother.

Mother. Mother Mother.

I miss you. 

You would have explained this to me.

You would have given me advice.

If you were here...I wouldn’t have been sent to this place.

I sigh. And take in my bare surroundings. 

Brick walls, iron bars, these belong to a criminal.

How did I become a criminal?

I let out a wail. I’m utterly alone.

Completely alone.

***

A month went by. The head officer comes by once in a while.

I learned how long my sentence was.

Thirty years.

`How fun.

Thirty years of punishment. Thirty years of suffering. Thirty years of knowing nothing.

But why?

Why? Why? Why?

***

Another month, Then another and another. But still a long way from thirty years.

I’m brought to speak to the head office, when I see a revolver.

It’s a fancy thing, made of expensive material.

Beautiful but lethal.

It’s lying on the officer’s desk. As if it’s nothing. 

The world starts spinning.

Another memory.

***

A girl knocks on the door. She’s dressed nicely, as if her niceness is to be concealing the weapon hidden inside one of her pockets.

A young man answers the door. A rich young fellow. 

They chat like good friends.

He turns his back. She pulls out her weapon.

BOOM.

The world erupts in chaos.

Gone.

The end.

***

That girl is me.

Me. Me. Me.

***

It appears that I am a murderer.

And because of that, I’m in jail.

That’s all I have to say.

***

Today’s unusual.

My father came to visit. A short visit, he didn’t say much.

His exact words: “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry.

Sorry for what?

***

That night I dream.

I dream of myself.

Another memory. Or should I say, memories?

My father comes home. He’s angry. Very angry.

“How could you do this!” He yells.

I look confused. I’ve got no idea of what he’s talking about. 

“Unbelievable!” He goes on yelling nonsense.

I have to read in between the lines to find out what he was talking about.

I was accused of some sort of crime that I’ve never done.

And my dad believes I did it.

“Get out of my house and never come back,” he roars.

No time to pack even. I make my way through the door and go out into the streets.

Within a dark alley, an evil grin looks back. Five evil grins to be exact.

Then emptiness.

....My trial. Someone sneaks in through the back...and hits me on the head.

The rest is history.

A bad history. 

***

POLICE RECORDS

NAME: Maxine A. Dexter

DOB: 10/10/1985

HISTORY: Motherless girl. Distant father. After being cast out of home (accused of a false crime) , she is kidnapped by a group of people and is forced to join their gang (police station currently searching for them). She is told to kill a wealthy businessman (armed with a revolver - weapon in police station’s possession) and to steal a valuable object (still searching), in exchange for her life.

Currently in prison - all memory lost as a result of severe head wound.

ACCUSED OF: Murder and burglary

SENTENCE STATUS: Officers are attempting to overturn the sentence, and release subject. Waiting for her memory to return and for more evidence.