I felt a tear drop roll down my right cheek, warm and sticky in the summertime air. I felt another slip down my left cheek. I was not sure why I was crying so much. I opened my eyes to see a darkened sky above me, gray with rumbling clouds. Another tear landed on my forehead. No, not a tear, a raindrop. It was beginning to rain. I pushed myself up off the street. Why was I on the street? It was broken up, with weeds popping out of the cracks in the sidewalk. Dazed, I did my best to focus on the world around me. Everything was old and worn. I seemed to be the only one in the street like this. Why on earth was I still in the street?

My eyes fluttered between buildings and abandoned cars for an explanation, but I could not find one. I took off running towards the nearest street corner, where an ancient looking drugstore sat. I pulled at the door handle, but it wouldn't open. I slammed my fist into the glass door, hoping to get someone's attention from inside. No one answered.

Only then did I feel the sharp pain coming from my left wrist. It was bandaged. Curious, I ripped the bandage off. Underneath was a small scab in the shape a letter "N." I brushed it off as a strange occurrence and continued my search for another person.

"Hello?" I called into the glass door. Inside, I could make out some shelves that had been toppled over. The floor was littered with trash. And it was dark. I heard no noise from the inside of the store, so I began making my way down the sidewalk, passing abandoned offices, restaurants, and salons. I sighed as I walked, knocking on nearly every door that I passed. I felt like crying. Where was everybody?

I continued walking until I reached the edge of the street. The road led to a big grouping of trees. In fact, trees surrounded me and the town I was in. I hadn't noticed before, due to the buildings. It was still sprinkling and thunder rumbled every now and then. As I looked on the horizon, I saw a sign. I couldn't read it, as I was on the backside. I jogged towards it, desperate to find any clue as to where I was. Water droplets ran down my hair and face, but I kept jogging. There, only a few yards from the small street and a small distance from the foreboding forest, was the sign. It read a simple phrase: "Welcome to Wandermere."

Wandermere? Never heard of it. I thought for a moment, racking my brain for any recollection of the town. I was unsuccessful. As I thought, there, in a thunderstorm, I thought of myself. A brainstorm. In particular, who I am. Did I have a name like Wandermere has? Did I live here once upon a time? Did I ride a bike or drive a car? Did I have friends?

None of these questions I could answer.

A ringing broke out in my ear, sharp and loud. I gasped and clasped by hand over my left temple. The ringing grew louder and louder, so loud that I couldn't hear the thunder that boomed overhead. I fell to the ground in pain. My eyes shut tightly. After what felt like minutes of the constant noise, a voice entered my left ear, replacing the ringing. "Hello? Can you hear me?" A man spoke in a voice that I did not recognize.

Shocked, I don't speak for a moment. I look around for the source of the voice, but I found no one. Once again, the man spoke, "Please, can you hear me? I need to know that you can hear me."

I took a shaky breath, "Y-yes, I can hear you." I didn't know what else to say, so I quickly added, "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you." He sounded stressed, his voice cracking every once in a while. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Uh, John. Who are you?"

"I don't know."

There was silence on the other end. After a moment, "What do you mean that you don't know?"

"I woke up here and I can't remember anything about myself. I don't even know my name."

There was a pause on the other end. I thought I heard the sound of a pen scratching against a paper, but it was far too faint to tell. "Listen, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I have a list of instructions here. It says that if we both want to live, you have to do exactly what I say."

"What?"

A small crackling of what sounds like paper entered through my ear. Finally, the man, John, spoke again. "There's just a paper list of instructions. At the top, it says 'If you want to get out alive, you must do exactly what is required.'"

I felt my stomach turn somersaults. "What does it ask me to do?"

"They want me to give it to you one by one."

"'They?'"

"Whoever is running this sick game, I guess." John sighed.

"How bad are they? The tasks, I mean."

"It doesn't matter. You have to do them or we both die."

I looked around at the abandoned town. Cars and trash littered the street. Vines and weeds plagued the sidewalks. All of it was a representation of civilization that once was, but is no longer. Raindrops tapped at my shoulders, pulling me back into a current state of horrendous reality. Sandpaper clawed at my throat, "We have to do this?"

John's voice spoke softly into my ear. "I suppose so."

"Then what's the first task?"

"It says to break into the store on the corner of the street and snag a pistol from there. There should be ammunition nearby as well. They want you to load the gun. And also grab some matches and a pocket knife from there."

I took an involuntary step backward. "Why on earth would they want me to do that?"

"It doesn't matter. You have to do this, though. I've got a family to get back to."

Did I ever have a family? I must have. I wondered if they missed me. If we used to bake cookies on holidays. If we went on vacations. We must have done that once. Surely we did. Were they looking for me?

"Hello?" John's voice said, snapping my attention back to the task at hand.

"Yes, sorry. I'll do it." I trekked forward this time, making my way past rusty cars and heaps of trash. If I had a family, they'd want to see me again. Maybe I'd remember them, or they could help me. In that case, I'd do whatever it takes to get out of here alive. I found the store at the corner. I tried the doors again, but, just as before, they were locked. "They won't open."

"Find something to smash them open with, then." His voice came out a bit too urgent. He must have been just as stressed as I was. I'm not sure why, though. He just had to tell me what to do. I had to actually do the things required.

I looked towards one of the cars, finding a rusted metal pole laying there. I picked it up and walked back over towards the glass doors. I held up the metal pole and was about to swing when I caught my reflection staring back at me. Her eyes were just as untamed as her brown hair. Her face was smeared with dirt and grime. At one time, I could tell she was pretty, but it was long ago. The girl who stared back at me was a monster. She terrified me. With two hefty swings, the monster was gone. At my feet, shards of glass lay in puddles. I did my best to step over them and entered the store.

Cobwebs hung like lace curtains from the ceiling and framed the windows. Dust was caked on every item in the store. Light bulbs had been smashed; their remains scattered the ground. Towards the back, I caught a glimpse of some glass cases. They were, undoubtedly, the cleanest items in the whole store. I rushed towards them, desperate to finish the first task. Inside of the cases were pistols, midnight black. Beside them were pocket knives of all different sizes. I swung the metal pole into the glass. It shattered instantly. I tossed the pole to the side and grabbed one of the pistols. It was heavier than what I thought it would be. I wondered if I ever have shot a gun before, in my old life. I reached into the case and grabbed one of the larger pocket knives on display. I placed the knife into my pocket while I kept the pistol in my palm. Behind the counter is where I found the boxes of ammunition. I knew the correct ones the grab, almost as an instinct. The rain on the rooftop echoed in the loneliness. A bass drum to match my racing heart.

"I've got the knife and gun," I said into the silence.

"Don't forget the matches," John replied. He sounded tired as if he'd been the one doing the hard work. It almost annoyed me.

"Oh, yeah." I walked around in the aisles until I found a box of matches. Compared to the other items that line the shelves, the box was clean. It still had a thin layer of dust on top, but not near as much as the canned goods on aisle three. Next to the matches was fire accelerant. Though I wasn't told I'd need the accelerant, I picked up a can. I pocketed the matches and spoke once more, "Got it."

"Great. The next task might be a bit more challenging, considering the weather. They want you to light a fire."

I thought about the accelerant I was holding, grateful to have it with me. "Easy enough." I attempted to say with confidence, but I was worried, as my voice had more cracks than the sidewalk outside.

"It's okay. You've got this. Just go ahead." John's voice sounded a bit calmer now, but with much more authority. He sounded like a father encouraging a child.

I stepped outside of the store. The rain had slacked up, now just a light drizzle. My spirits lifted a bit. I looked over at the forest that surrounded Wandermere. I took a deep breath in and took off running. The wind whipped my hair behind my face. The light rain nipped at my flesh. By the time I reached the edge of the woods, my lungs burned and my heart pounded. I took my first steps into the forest. It enveloped me immediately, swallowing me whole. It was darker in the wooded area. The drizzle from the rain was nonexistent here. I set the pistol and fire accelerant on a nearby stump. Without a second thought, I began collecting fallen branches from the ground. I made a pile of sticks, leaves, grass, branches, and logs. Anything I could find went into the pile. I did my best to avoid damp sticks and leaves, but it was hard from the previous rain storm. After I was satisfied with the size of the pile, I went over to the stump and grabbed the accelerant. I tossed the empty can to the side and took the matches out of my pocket. It took about seven times before I was able to successfully light the fire. Heat radiated from the pile. The fire mixed with the humidity of the air was beginning to make me sweat. "I'm done."

"Good," John said. "Do you think it will stay lit when you complete the next task?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because task number three requires you to cook. Sort of." John's voice was uneasy. "They want you to shoot an animal and then roast it over the fire."

Despite the heat, I felt chill bumps prickle up my skin. Even in my old life, I don't think I had ever killed anything. I knew it was wrong. "Why?"

John's voice flared with a sudden burst of anger. "Do you really think I know?"

I sighed the smoke out of my lungs. "I'm sorry. I've just never... done anything like this before."

"That makes two of us." I heard John take a deep intake of breath before continuing, "Listen, I've got a wife and daughter at home. I need to see them again."

"I know."

"You need to do this."

"I know." I looked over at the stump where my pistol lay. I forced my feet to move closer and I grabbed the pistol from the stump. It was heavier than before, matching the feeling in my heart. "I've been meaning to ask, can you see me? You mentioned something about the weather earlier. So can you see me?"

"Yes, I can," John said softly. The anger in his voice was gone. "The room I'm in is filled with a bunch of computer screens with different camera angles posted all around town and in the forest."

"Good. That can help."

"How, exactly?"

"Scroll through the footage and when you see an animal, tell me. Then, direct me to where you see it."

John let a sigh escape his lips. "Alright." Then, silence in my left ear.

I took this time to get what little rest I could. I sat and listened to the crackle of the fire from the stump. The smoke from the fire rose in the air, turning the sky a darker shade of gray. I was there, alone, for what felt like ages. Finally, John's voice rang into my ear; a soft "Got one."

I jumped up with the pistol in hand, careful not to make any noise. Softly, I whispered, "Where?"

"Travel east a bit‒sorry, go to the left."

I held the pistol in front of me. I stepped lightly, though it was hard to ignore the crunching of the leaves beneath my shoes. "How far do I have to go?"

"Not far. It's heading straight for you."

"What is it?"

"A deer," John said, nonchalantly. "You can take it."

I sigh softly. "I hope so."

John said nothing more, so I continued heading east, gun drawn. I kept hearing what I thought was movement, some sort of footsteps, but I only heard it through my right ear. The wind was beginning to pick up, and I was worried the fire that I worked too hard to create was going to die out. Or worse, spread into the surrounding woods, engulfing me and every animal into nothing but ash. The thought was terrifying, so I chose to ignore it. I trekked forward, silent.

"Stop." I plant my feet. "You're getting close. It's still heading for you, so maybe if you try to climb a tree to see if you can spot it."

The massive oaks that surrounded me were intimidating, to say the least. "No way. I'll fall and break my arm."

"Fine. But if you let this deer get away, you don't have to worry about them killing you. I will."

"You're not being very supportive right now," I hissed.

"Sorry." It wasn't sincere. "I just can't believe that I have to rely on some girl to do all of this stuff if I want to live."

I ignored John and kept my eyes and ears peeled for the deer. "How close is it?"

"About a hundred feet."

I heard what sounded like leaves rustling from a few feet away. My mind was reeling, praying that I wouldn't have to kill this poor deer. The thought of being the cause of the end of something's life... It was nightmarish.

Then, it appeared. A female. Chestnut brown fur. Lanky limbs. Everything about it said innocence. My hands shook as I lifted the pistol and aimed it the best that I could. One shot. If I missed, I would blow every opportunity I have to stay alive.

"Shoot it."

I did. The gunshot rang out as loud as the thunder in the sky. My eyes squeezed themselves shut. I heard John mumble something, but I didn't hear. When I opened my eyes, I saw a deer laying a few feet away. I took a step towards it. I watched it bleed. My lungs burned and my eyes began to sting. My face became damp from the emotions that leaked from my tear ducts. Tears, this time, not rain.

"You need to kill it."

Puzzled, I took another timid step towards it. I shot it. It is dead.

John, as if he read my mind, uttered, "You didn't kill it."

He was correct. Though crimson billows leaked from its side, its eyes were open, and it took shaky breaths. It was in agonizing pain, it was obvious from the frantic movements it was making. As I approached, it did its best to get up and run, but it was far too weak to move.

John repeated himself, "You need to kill it."

"I know," I finally said. "I don't want to."

"It's suffering. Think about the pain that its in. You need to kill it."

I lifted the pistol and put the barrel against the deer's temple. With my left hand, I stroked the deer's side. "Shhhh," I said in a calming manner. "It's okay. It'll be okay." The sound of a pen against paper entered through my left ear, but I ignored it. The deer huffed in pain. In one swift motion, I pulled the trigger. The deer fell silent instantly, as did the rest of the forest. The previous sprinkles of rain were gone. The world was still.

"You have to take it back to the fire now."

"Can you give me a minute?" I snapped.

"You have to‒"

"Shut up!" I yelled at John. Tears welled in my eyes. My head felt as if it was wrapped tightly in cotton, the world fuzzy and muted. Tears continued to fall down my cheeks. I must have stayed like that for hours, crying and hunched over a dead deer. A dead deer that I killed. I didn't dare move, in fear that the bile bubbling and burning its way through my throat would spill over. When I did finally look up at the forest around me, it was as if nothing had changed. My eyes adjusted and I wanted to move on. "What's the next part?" My voice was soft.

"You haven't completed number three."

"I'm not roasting the deer over the fire."

Pen scribbling on paper. "Why not?"

"I don't think I'm strong enough to move it right now."

"We don't have a time limit. Do it whenever you're ready."

"How do you know we don't have a time limit?"

John paused for a second, careful to choose his next words. "They never clarified if we did." There was another pause. "You have to do exactly what the task says. If you deviate from it at all, it could cost us both of our lives. Please, continue."

I reminded myself that John had a family to return to. John needed to get out of here alive. I stood, and, after the world stopped spinning, I grabbed the deer's legs and began dragging it back in the direction of the fire. The humidity made my skin begin to drip with sweat. Finally, I could see the light coming from the fire. With a couple of good pulls, I had successfully pulled the deer all the way to the fire.

Exhausted, I slumped down onto the stump. "I want you to tell me what the next task is."

"Why?"

"So I can mentally prepare myself. That one was hard enough."

John went quiet for a moment. "The fourth tasks states that you must cut out the animal's heart and then consume it."

Bile clawed its way to my mouth once again. "I can't do that."

"You were supposed to roast the deer first."

"I will. But I'm tired. Plus, I have no way to roast it."

"So you're just going to eat a raw heart?"

"I suppose," I uttered. "I'll toss the deer in the fire afterward to claim that I roasted it."

"Fair enough," John replied. "You have more guts than I do. That sounds disgusting."

"I'm aware." I snapped. I made my way over to the deceased deer. I slipped the knife from my pocket. My hands started shaking as they got closer to the skin. "I don't think I can do this."

"Please continue."

I took a deep breath and made the first incision. My vision became blurry as I did my best to focus on the task at hand. Cutting the heart out wasn't the worst part. I had to eat it. The thought, mixed with the scent of intestines made me vomit. I coughed and wheezed my way to the heart, until my bare hands, as well as the knife, helped me remove the deer's organ. It was bloody and slightly warmer than I would have liked. I threw up twice more until I was finally able to take my first bite. John was no help whatsoever as he listened to me gag and do my best to swallow the metallic substance. With every bit that went to my stomach, I wanted to throw it all back up. By the time I was finished, my hands and face were caked in dried blood, and my mouth was enveloped with iron.

I laid on the floor of the forest, disgusted with myself for going this far. My stomach tried so hard to reject the thing I'd just fed it. After I willed myself to look at the pitiful deer once more, I hauled it into the fire and watched its flesh burn away.

"Are you ready for the final task?" John finally asked.

I wanted to say no. "Yes."

"The final task is for you to‒oh gosh.."

John's words made me much more uneasy. "What, what does it say?"

"There's another person in town. They're hunting you down. They want you to kill that person before they kill you."

Another person? I have to kill another person? Despite my attempts to digest the deer heart, it came right back up.

"No, gosh, I can't do that. Don't you understand? I cannot kill another human being, John‒"

John's anger was back, "No, you have to do this. Listen to me. I need to get home to my daughter. She's only seven. I have to see her again. Don't you understand that I will die if you don't do this? Just because you don't remember your family doesn't give you the right to take me away from mine."

"Killing another person? That is murder, John. I can't just kill someone."

"It's self-defense. The message says that this person is also out to kill you. But you have a gun. You can shoot them. You can do it, for goodness sakes, do it!"

I cried. I cried hard. I watched the deer turn to nothing as I cried. I watched the fire die out as I cried. I watched the sunset as I cried. I did not have any tears left by the time it was over. I was shaking uncontrollably. My entire body ached. My mind was an ocean, my thoughts lapping against my skull, crashing into my mind. I was drowning. I knew I was. But I had no other choice.

"Can you see anyone in town?" I asked, picking myself up and grabbing the pistol at my side.

"I've been looking, but I haven't found one yet. But I think it's safe to say that that's where they'll be. Is in the town."

I nodded. My feet were numb as I carried myself out of the forest and onto the street that led into Wandermere.

Welcome to Wandermere.

The sign was much more ominous in the darkness. Wandermere was still empty, as far as I could see. No assassin roaming the streets to murder me. I began to wonder who I would encounter. If they would have any information at all about where we were.

"I see someone. They're about a block away. Find somewhere to hide, and quickly." John spoke in a whisper, feeling the same tension I was.

I entered the general store once again, hiding out behind the counter of the cases I had broken earlier that day. Earlier that day, I thought, it feels like a lifetime ago.

I heard the footfalls of someone outside. They were getting closer. I thought I heard a slight mumbling as well, but I couldn't be sure. After a moment or two, I heard a woman's voice calling out into the street.

She was closer now. With every shout, her voice grew nearer, until, finally, she reached the broken doors of the general store. Her shoes crunched on the glass that I'd shattered. She was only a few feet away. Now or never.

I popped up from behind the counter, earning a scream from the woman. I aimed the pistol right at her. She held up her hands in defense.

"Don't shoot me, please." She looked as if she'd been crying. Her hair was frizzy and untamed. Her eyes were sad, though, as if she was worn out and dull. But I recognized her. She was the girl I saw earlier in the glass. She was the monster I saw earlier. She was me. She must have seen my face, despite the darkness, as her hands fell to her sides. "Oh my gosh."

"I have to kill you," I said. My hands shook.

"No, you don't." She said.

"You have to kill her." It was John, now, speaking through my left ear.

"Yes, I do," I assured myself, as well as John. "You were sent to kill me. I have to kill you to live."

"Who told you that?" She laughed nervously.

"John."

"You don't know anyone named John."

"How do you know?"

She studied me for a moment. "What do you mean? I'm your twi‒"

"You have the opportunity to shoot her, so do it."

I tried my best to steady my hands. "Shut up!" I yelled, though I'm not sure who it was directed at. Tears slipped down my face. "I'm sorry. I have to do this, don't you understand? I have to kill you because I need to live."

"Natalie, what are you talking about?"

Natalie. The girl with my face just called me a name. Natalie. Was it my own?

"Don't listen to her, please. She's only clouding your judgment. Shoot her, now. Shoot her!" John was yelling, screaming into my left ear. It was so loud, in fact, that I never even heard the gunshot that escaped from my pistol. I never heard the girl fall to the floor. I only heard her screams.

I dropped the pistol and ran towards the girl. She was still screaming and coughing and bleeding and crying. I was the one who had caused it all. I sat with her as she died. I closed her eyes when she stopped moving. The entire time, I muttered the same phrase over and over. I'm sorry.

In her last few moments, she forgave me. She told me she did. She called me by that wonderful name. Natalie. I must have owned it at some point. I stared at my left wrist, the scab in the shape of the letter "N." I was trying to remember my name, I thought.

I sat there in silence. Alone. The dead girl beside me. It felt like ages until John spoke up once more, "I would like to congratulate you, Experiment 217. You've done a phenomenal job this time 'round."

Confused, I spoke up. "I don't understand."

"Don't worry. You never do. Being that this is your 217th go around, I'm not going to bother to explain, as you'll just forget it in the next few moments." I heard John writing something down. "Begin the memory erasure process." It sounded as if he'd turned away from the microphone to say that.

"What's going on?" Pain smashed into my mind like a truck.

"Don't worry. Try to stay calm."

Memories. I didn't have any. I knew that. Because of what he was doing. Despite the pain in my head, I pulled myself up and grabbed one of the extra pocket knives from the case. I jabbed the point of it to my skin, next to the "N." I managed the write an "AT" before the pain was unbearable, forcing me to drop the knife and clutch my forehead.

"Clever girl. Not enough of a memory jogger, though."

I began seeing spots. Black, blue, gray, green. All mixed up. Everything was all mixed up. I was going to pass out. I was passing out.

I crashed to the floor.

John sat at his desk in front of the computer screens. He hit the button alerting the cleanup crew that all was ready for a reset. Pleased with himself, he leaned back in his chair, admiring his work.

Two hundred and sixteen times they had tried to complete this, he thought, but my plan had been the only one to complete. My plan was the only successful experiment.

Moments later, his supervisor knocked at his door. "John? All done?"

"Yes, sir. Just completed moments ago. Experiment 217 was successful, sir. The girl was obedient, as requested."

"Very good." The supervisor smiled. "How many times did you probe her?"

"I logged them all, sir. I'll have those on your desk tomorrow morning."

John earned another smile from his supervisor. "Very well. Since your last experiment was successful, I'd like to ask if you would like to be in charge of conducting Experiment 218? You seem capable of doing so."

John smiled, "I'd be honored, sir. Thank you."

"I only have a few suggestions. I appreciate your approach. The entire 'we are in this together' bit. That was brilliant. I'd like to see you use more authority, though, in your voice, just to see if she is more likely to comply."

"Yes, sir. Will do."

"Good, good." The supervisor stopped to think for a moment. "Oh, yes, don't we still have the child in stock for the experiment?"

"I believe so."

"Very good. I'd like for you to use the child this time for task number five. The sister did not seem to trigger any memories that we know of. Perhaps the child will shake things up a bit."

"Alright, sir. I will." John nodded to his supervisor, and the supervisor left to check in on other employees. A message was received on one of the computer screens that all had been reset and was ready for the next experiment. John flipped the page in his log and wrote, "Wandermere Experiment 217: Attempt successful." Then, underneath, "Wandermere Experiment 218: In progress."