I ran out of that hospital like my life depended on it.

Only to regret not getting directions before leaving. After all, I was in a strange city all by myself.

Why did I run anyway in the first place?

Ugh. I placed my hand to my temple as my mind started to throb.

Suddenly, I saw a bright light coming towards me and ducked behind a dumpster. I saw a pool of water before me and observed the reflection of a brown-haired man coming towards me.

A few seconds later, I heard a muffled shout from somewhere close.

The man spoke to someone I couldn't see and said, "I don't know...He just escaped through the elevator..."

I see the glint of something metal from the water. Was he on the phone?

"I'll go after him and find him.", the man replied.

Was the man talking about me? Then, was he after me?

I tried to restrain myself then because I instantly felt nauseous. Was I about to throw up from the stress of this situation?

He responded to the person on the phone, "As if you would care, I'm his mentor and when have you ever been there for the kid?"

Was this man my supposed guardian? Had my instinct to run been right all along?

"Out of respect to your authority, I will retrieve Marcus and bring him back."

Covering my mouth to suppress my gasp, I tried not to breathe as I realized that whoever this man was, he was sent to capture someone named Marcus.

What was happening? Was I still back at the hospital dreaming? Where was I?

I was so confused at that moment that only hearing that man's voice again snapped me back to reality again.

"Please Marcus, if you are out there, run away and find your brother. Don't let me catch you."

His footsteps faded away as my fright level escalated to horror-movie survival mode.

Who was this man that warned me to stay away? Did he know me from somewhere? Was he my guardian? More importantly, if I was to believe anything this man said and think he was not tricking me, where was my brother?

I feared that I would never find out the answers to my plethora of questions and if that guy wasn't kind enough to clue me in, maybe my brother could.

It was a far-fetched idea, but I could at least try, right?

I tried to gain awareness of my surroundings before feeling a sudden bout of dizziness come over me.

No, no, no. I have to find shelter at least if my legs are going to give out on me.

Looking around the dumpster, I found some dirty clothes I could change into that were way too big for me, but I tied around with string.

Wandering around the alleyways, I spotted a sign for Desayunador Salesiano Padre Chava, a shelter run by Salesian fathers for migrants and deportees.

Time to test out my Spanish, I thought as I paused before opening the door.

"Buenos días, chavo. ¿Como podemos ayudarte hoy?"

"Buenos días, hermana. ¿Puedes ayudarme? Vine de Venezuela y estoy pelando bolas."

"Claro. Puedes sentarte allí y esperar tu turno. Vamos a conseguirte una cama para la noche, no hay bronca."

"Chévere."

I sat down quickly only to notice the fact that I had a. lied about being from Venezuela and b. spoken Venezuelan Spanish like a native.

Who was I exactly?

At this point, I just wished someone would take me home because being a minor in a foreign country is scary enough without having to run from people who probably wished my harm.

What did my family think of all this? Did they know I was missing at all? Was the reason the religious sister let me in because she assumed I was an orphan?

The sensation of nausea hit me yet again, so I asked for directions to the restroom and puked my guts out.

Wiping off spit, I looked at the bright walls in the stall and glimpsed flashes of something else.

Was I remembering something from before the incident?

Feeling lightheaded, my head hit the floor and passed out to hear faint yells in the distance.

_________________________________________________

"Hmm. Which do you think looks better on me? The rose or the silver?"

"They're both just scarves.", what looked like another me answered back with a pompous attitude and bad boy outfit to match.

A young lady popped out of a fitting stall and stuck out her tongue at me.

She seemed way older than me to be my girlfriend. Why was she appearing in my dream?

"You only say that because you have no fashion sense, little brother."

Wait, this girl who stood before me was my older sister? Was I remembering a portion of my past now? Would I recover the rest of my memories soon enough?

"Well, at least you being here shopping is better than crying your eyes out and eating a whole tub of ice cream."

The other me dodged a projectile of studded jeans and faced a vehement older sister about to chuck me through a window for saying that.

"You know shopping is therapeutic for me.", she muttered rolling her eyes before trying on yet another pair of shoes.

"Let me rough him up for a bit, I bet you'd love that."

"You are not beating up or hurting my ex-boyfriend!"

"He used you! To get promoted to top lieutenant, no less.", I shouted.

Were past me and present me merging together in this dream/memory?

"It's my fault for being so clingy, Marcus.", she said as she attempted to cover her sniffling from me by holding up a fur coat.

"Emilie...please don't do this to yourself. He's the one to blame, not you."

She cried out, "You don't understand. I tried so hard this time and he goes and flirts with me; makes me think I'm worth it and more than some bi-polar reject from her family who didn't earn her position in AoE...and then...he cheats on me, that..."

She crumpled and lay there sobbing in my lap, replaying how she could have prevented this from happening.

"There, there. You have worked so hard to earn your position. That ***** deserves to have his head pummeled in.", I crooned while holding her head.

"I'm the one who's supposed to take care of you, little brother and here you are helping me in my misery.", she said as she wiped her face from the tears.

"I'm repaying the favor for all the bedtime stories you read to me as a kid.", I replied.

When her cries subsided, I whispered, "I don't like to see you get hurt as I have always thought of you as my mom."

"Marcus, you already have a mother." Those were the last words I heard before the scene faded and I woke up on a cot.

Why did I suddenly feel a sense of longing? Was I imagining missing someone I once knew or was it all part of my imagination? How could I tell reality from fiction if I didn't even know if I had a sister at all?

My loneliness only grew from that point on.