I reached into my pockets to check for anything else that could give me clues on my identity.

There was—

A) There was a gun. Two pieces of glass that formed a symbol I didn’t recognize when pushed together, and a letter. I opened it. It was a suicide note.

B) There was a phone. Handcuffs, and someone’s phone number scribbled onto the back of some shady business card. The phone buzzed to life. Crap, I thought, someone’s calling. And then, Is this phone even mine?

C) There was nothing, just a few bits of paper with notes jotted down onto them. I squinted and brought them closer to my face in an attempt to read the messy handwriting. 'Don’t. Look. It. In. The. Eyes.' I frowned. What an odd thing to write.