I was back in the small room, though now two security guards were present and the Trisha woman was seated off to my side, frazzled.

I waited, silently assessing the situation as my brain started to work again. They had drugged me. I looked down to find one arm and both legs strapped to the bed. And then I realized there was a particular sterile flavor still lingering in my mouth. The cotton swab. They'd taken their sample while I was out.

Fuck, the director would not be pleased. He might even exterminate me if it ever surfaced. I couldn’t tell him about it but if my DNA was ever found— it would not be good.

The monitor behind me dinged again, briefly and Trisha looked at me for the first time. She stood and pulled her chair closer.

“Hello again,” she said. “Are you feeling any better?”

I stared at her. I didn’t understand why these people cared so much or why I wasn’t allowed to get out of here. They must have found out about the job, and were now waiting for those DNA results so they could hit me with the, ‘there’s no point denying it’ line.

I swallowed and turned my gaze to the ceiling.

“I know you're uncomfortable,” Trisha continued. “But please bear with us, we’re gonna get you home soon.”

At my silence, she made some notes on her tablet and then stood, exchanged a few words with the security guard, and left my room.

I was left to stare at the ceiling for an endless time. I didn’t sleep. My eyes got raw and even felt dry enough I worried they’d crack and start bleeding.

The guards changed shifts several times. Assuming they had eight hour shifts, I’d been here for two days. It was spent mostly avoiding questions and having them check my ‘vitals’ over and over.

And then, on the third day, Trisha entered the room in a cheery mood. She had her tablet held against her side and a police officer following behind her.

“Taylor,” she said cheerily, and the name made my hair stand on end. “Do I have some news for you,” she explained.

My silence remained unbroken and her mood faltered but she sat down in that same chair. “You’ve been missing for twelve years,” she stated. “So you may not remember a lot from before you were separated from your family.”

Family? My facial expression faltered. Some emotion slipped out as Trisha watched me.

“Do you have any questions?” Trisha asked.

I swallowed before finally managing to croke, “My name is Taylor?”

One of the security guards suddenly left, not making any explanation as to why but my gaze snapped to where the door shut behind him and I found the police officer gazing down at me with a complicated, almost alien, mix of grief and relief.

“Yes, your name is Taylor Ward,” Trisha said. She reached over and rested a hand on mine. “You don’t remember anything from before you were separated?”

I shook my head. There was so little from before the camp. A few snatches of manicured lawns and faces but nothing concise.

“Okay, well, we’ve been working on getting into contact with your family and doing a house visit to see if the environment will be safe for you. In the meantime I have Detective Sherill here who’d like to ask you some questions. He’s been assigned to your case and is familiar with your family…” Trisha trailed off, seemingly realizing this was meaningless to me.

Still, she gave me a polite smile as she stood and gave her seat over to the police officer behind her, who pulled out his own forms and notes and a pen.

“I won’t answer,”I told him and returned my gaze to the ceiling. It only felt fair. These people did genuinely seem to want to ‘help,’ whatever that meant. But that didn’t change the fact that even if my name was Taylor before the camp, I would forever be Athena. Knowing my family wouldn’t change that and only put everybody in danger.

I had to get back before the director decided to take matters into his own hands. And my comrades needed me, too. They’d get the brunt of it if the director got in a foul mood.

Detective Sherill still asked his questions, and at my silence simply moved on to the next, and the next and the next for what felt like an eternity. Trisha came in and out of the room, checking in frequently, but left us be.

As Sherill asked his final question, he lowered his notes and stared at me.

I didn’t meet his gaze even as he rooted around in his pockets and pulled out a business card.

“Call me if you ever need anything at all,” he said. “I know you don’t trust me but I hope you’ll be able to get some justice someday.”

He then stood and informed Trisha just outside the door that he was done.

Trisha took his place and sat next to me. I refused to look at her as my eyes were raw and burning more than ever and trying to blink only made it worse.