Chapter eight

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Isabella
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Tate walked towards his office as soon as we got back to the Pack house. He didn't glance my way, not that I cared. Noah took me through the house and up a set of stairs. We went up five floors before he started down a new hall. I stayed close behind, peering around at my surroundings. The walls are all beige, the wooden floors made of maple.

Noah stops at a door that looks just like the others. He opens it, revealing a plain room with a large bed, a television mounted on the wall, a window seat, a cabinet and a bathroom. Something else clicks inside my head. I remember this place, I remember being in here. But I don't know why.

I step into the room. Noah lets out a small sigh, mumbling something. Without a word, he shuts the door. When I hear it close, I jump and turn around. I reach for the handle and jiggle it. The door stays locked. I let out an annoyed sound, turning back to the room. Did they really need to lock the door?

I decide that it doesn't matter. I could easily get out of here if I really wanted to.

I start with the bathroom, throwing open the door to reveal a large marble counter and white jacuzzi. A giant mirror hangs above the sink, and next to that is a pure white toilet. I stare at myself in the mirror. My face is creamy and light, my hair has streaks of silver. My eyes let off an eery glow when I look at them.

Beside the large jacuzzi is a shower made of a grey metal in a square shape. I grab the drawers and pull them open. In one is a toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, mouth wash and a hairbrush. In the other is a hand mirror, nail clippers and deodorant. I grab the nail clippers, stuffing them in my pocket.

I walk back into the plain bedroom. Where do I remember this place from? I try to search my memory, raking through it like a penny in a haystack. I come up with the short end of the stick, remembering nothing but a flash of the window seat.

Taking that as a sign, I climb into the seat and unlatch the lock. With one push, the window opens fully. I could fit my whole body through it with extra room to spare. That's good to know.

I shut the window quietly and look around the room, wondering how the hell I ended up here. With a deep breath, I climb onto the bed, set my head on the pillows, and stare at the roof.

I want, more than anything, to remember. Losing my memory is like losing half of myself. I don't feel like I'm a whole person, I feel incomplete. I want to know why I lost my memory. I want to know what my life was like before this mess. Did I have parents? Did they love me and give me an amazing childhood? Was I in school? Did I have a boyfriend and best friend? Why do I have abilities, and what are they used for?

I close my eyes tight and let out a small whimper. I feel alone and vulnerable. I don't like feeling this way. I don't like the panic that flows through my chest every time I hear a footstep outside of my door, I don't like having to keep my guard up when I'm with someone. I want Ace to save me now, to explain what's going on.

As far as I'm concerned, I shouldn't have special abilities. And humans shouldn't be able to shift into giant wolves. It goes against all laws of nature.

I want to remember. Why have they taken me and not let me go? How do these people know me? What did they do with my memories?

And then I start to think, did I get rid of my memories? Did I have such a bad life that I didn't want to remember?

I open my eyes, peering at the white roof, seeing a silver glow. Somehow I know it's my eyes. The color shines wherever I look, from the roof, down the wall, over the television and onto the bed. I close my eyes, breathing calmly. Maybe if I sleep on it, I might remember.

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