Introduction
You wake up in a white room.
Your head is bandaged, and there are fresh tattoos on your chest and arms.
I have no memory of this place.
Underneath your bandage are sutures. Has somebody been inside my head?
The only thing on the wall opposite the bed is a mirror, so you check out your tattoos.
On your right arm, "You" is written in a curly script.
On your left arm, "Your people" in dark Olde English.
On your chest, "Your story" is scrawled deeply, red and puffy, in imperfect chicken scratch.
You realize (without knowing how) that you don't know who you are.
Or who you come from.
Or the circumstances of your life and how you came to be scared, scarred, and inked in a blank room.
Wait, there is something else written in what could be Sharpie black on your back.
"Your call."
You find a seam in the wall, push the door open, and walk out into a light brighter than white.
Where should I begin?
Your head is bandaged, and there are fresh tattoos on your chest and arms.
I have no memory of this place.
Underneath your bandage are sutures. Has somebody been inside my head?
The only thing on the wall opposite the bed is a mirror, so you check out your tattoos.
On your right arm, "You" is written in a curly script.
On your left arm, "Your people" in dark Olde English.
On your chest, "Your story" is scrawled deeply, red and puffy, in imperfect chicken scratch.
You realize (without knowing how) that you don't know who you are.
Or who you come from.
Or the circumstances of your life and how you came to be scared, scarred, and inked in a blank room.
Wait, there is something else written in what could be Sharpie black on your back.
"Your call."
You find a seam in the wall, push the door open, and walk out into a light brighter than white.
Where should I begin?