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Somewhere on I95 heading south The sudden jarring of my world shocked me out of what must have probably been the deepest sleep I'd ever had in my life. It caused my eyes to snap open while flooding my consciousness with sights, sounds, textures, and scents all at once, none of which were familiar. I was laying on a queen-sized bed that, along with everything else in the modest bedroom, seemed to be vibrating. It took me a moment to realize that the reason for this was because the room I currently occupied was in motion, i.e it was within a vehicle. In addition to the bed I occupied, the far wall contained multiple dresser drawers in a rich, dark maple as well as a thirty-two inch flat screen t.v laid into the wall. Off to my left the door was open, revealing a somewhat small but very well appointed bathroom complete with two sinks, a toilet, and a shower with a curved, frosted glass door. While overall it was on the small side, there was no question that this room was one that someone very well-off slept in. Once I'd taken a quick look at the strange room and verified I was alone, I took several moments to do a self examination. For most people this would have been a simple matter of verifying your head was still attached to your body, all of your limbs were intact, and that you weren't experiencing any pain. For me, however, it was an exercise in discovery. The form, from what I could see, was alien to me. That's not to say that it wasn't my body, but I didn't recognize it at all. This was because my first thought upon opening my eyes was: Who am I? If it's never happened to you you can't possibly know how terrifying it is to wake up and realize you have no idea who you are. That's the situation I found myself in as I racked my brain to come up with some kind of clue to what my identity was. Yet no matter how hard I wracked my brain the knowledge just wasn't there. My name, how old I was, who my parents were, what I liked, what I disliked...everything involving something personal to me was an absolute blank. The only thing I did know was that I was lying on a bed, dressed in a soft white, off-the-shoulder blouse and an olive green skirt long enough to cover my feet while I was curled up, and had long hair that partially covered my face until I brushed it back. What the hell had happened to me? Where was I? Who was I? I felt panic tighten my chest as I realized that I could potentially be in danger at that very moment and not even know it. I could very well be a prisoner in this room. It was that thought that had me leaping to my feet and rushing for the pocket door that seemed to lead out of the room, tripping on my skirt as it was indeed long enough for the hem to skim the floor. After fumbling with the recessed latch for a moment I shoved it sideways as hard as I could while also praying it wasn't locked. Imagine my surprise when the door practically flew into its recess with a loud bang that caused me to jump back and let out a squeak of surprise. It only slowed me down for a moment because in the next I was racing through the door and into... The cabin of an obviously very expensive RV. Like the bedroom it was trimmed in dark-colored maple with doors and cabinets here and there hiding who knew what, a full kitchen with a dark marble countertop complete with a sink, oven, stove, microwave, and even a dishwasher. A small little dining area with a matching marble table and black leather padded benches on either side abutted it. Abutting that was some kind of a lounge area with a large black leather couch that directly faced the kitchen. I took all of this in only in passing as my eyes immediately locked upon the driving compartment directly ahead. While the height of the driver and passenger chairs made it very difficult to see the person behind the wheel, I was able to tell that it appeared to be a man with short, dark hair. His head moved slightly and I could see in the rearview mirror that it was indeed a man, though I couldn't really tell his age since the mirror only showed the dark sunglasses he was wearing. "Oh hi honey," he said in a smooth and friendly voice, "Did you have a nice nap?" I didn't respond right away. Truthfully I wasn't sure I could have spoken a single syllable since I was trying to get control of the fear that wanted me to just race for the door leading to the outside and dive headfirst from the vehicle. Since we were obviously in motion that would likely have been suicide, but my instinctive flight response to a completely unknown situation was making it hard to think rationally. My hesitation didn't go unnoticed and I could faintly see the man's forehead wrinkle slightly. "Honey? Are you okay?" "Where am I?" I finally managed to ask in a small, frightened voice. "Who are you?" I saw what looked like the man's eyebrows raise sharply and he quickly maneuvered the vehicle onto an off ramp. From what I could see through the windshield from my far back position it looked like we were pulling into a rest stop. The man wasted no time in haphazardly drawing the vehicle to a stop and putting it in park before spinning the driver's seat around to face me. He quickly whipped off his sunglasses and I got my first real good look at him. He was in what seemed to be his late thirties, possibly his late forties if I really stretched my imagination. Dark brown or black (it was tough to tell with the sun at his back) hair was cut short and neatly kept. He had quite a handsome face with a trace of a five o'clock shadow coloring his cheeks and chin, sharp planes to his jawline, and dark brown eyes that were currently peering at me with obvious concern. "Kitten, what's wrong?" he asked in a tone of voice that matched his gaze. "Who are you?" I demanded in a voice that I somehow managed to make stronger and more demanding, "And what am I doing here?" I could feel a very fine thread of anger leak through into my voice. That was good. Anger was better than fear. "You're safe Kitty," the man said in a calm, soothing voice as he lifted his hands in a surrender gesture with his palms facing me, "No one is going to hurt you I promise. Don't you remember what happened?" "You've called me Kitten and Kitty in less than a minute. Is one of those my name?" I wanted to make it sound like another demand, but the confusion and returning fear that was once more building within me softened my voice and threatened to turn it into a plea instead. The man nodded and slowly rose from the driver's seat with his eyes never leaving mine. "Your name is Kitty Sinclair, but sometimes I call you Kitten as kind of a pet name, no pun intended." He offered me a small smile that I didn't return. "Who are you?" I asked carefully with narrowed eyes. If this man knew my name and even had a pet name for me it could mean that the two of us were close. Or, he could simply know my name and just made up the pet name to put me at ease so I wouldn't suspect him of anything. Or maybe he was just making up my name on the spot. My mind was threatening to spin itself into confusion about this. He nodded and took a small step closer to me. "Yes I am. My name is Charles Sinclair, I'm your father." Not since Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, hey, I remember seeing that, has a familial revelation been more of a bomb drop. For several seconds I just stared at this man, my supposed father, with my mouth agape. No, this couldn't be true. I would remember my own father dammit! "You're lying," I finally managed to spit out. The instant expression of hurt on his face almost made me instantly regret my words. It was on the tip of my tongue to say something, maybe take it back, but he shook his head sadly and sighed. "I guess I should have expected this." "Expected what?" I asked suspiciously. His gaze returned to mine and held it with its earnestness. "About six months ago you and your mother were in a terrible car accident. You had a very serious head injury from hitting the dashboard when the seatbelt failed to lock up and the airbag didn't deploy. You were in a coma for about three weeks. When you finally woke up everything seemed okay, but there were gaps in your memory. The doctors said amnesia wasn't uncommon with the kind of injury you had and they told me that just giving you time might bring the memories back." "I don't have gaps!" I snapped angrily and clenched my fists, though I wasn't really sure I was ready to try and attack this man. "I can't remember anything about who I am, at all!" My supposed father nodded in understanding and slid down onto the couch in the lounge area. "That was a possibility the doctors warned me about. They said that sometimes when a person suffers such a serious head injury their amnesia could get worse. I hoped and prayed that wouldn't be the case with you, but I did prepare something just in case if you'll let me show you. You don't even have to come any closer if you don't want to, you can see it from there." "Just...just don't make any sudden moves," I ordered, thinking about all of the cop shows and movies I'd seen. Hey, that was something else I remembered. Maybe I was getting better. He nodded and simply said, "T.V." Almost immediately there was a very soft whirring as a very large flat screen T.V. slowly rotated down from the ceiling until it stopped without even a click, covering several of the cabinets in the kitchen. "Play video file Kitty one," he ordered. Instantly, the television turned on to display my supposed father, a lovely woman around the same age as he was, and a beautiful young girl of perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old enjoying a picnic in some unknown forest-type of location. They were all smiling and laughing and it was clear that they were family and all loved one another. For the entire twenty-minute runtime of the video I watched as what appeared to be mother, father, and daughter talked, joked, played, and laughed while enjoying a delicious-looking lunch of fried chicken. "Who was that woman and girl?" I finally asked when the screen went dark. "That was your mother," my self-proclaimed father informed me, "and you." I shook my head, sending my hair flying. "Look, just because you show me some video with you, a woman, and a girl doesn't automatically mean I'm your daughter. I mean Jesus that could be-" I lost my voice right then. In my little tirade I had turned slightly and had been facing the microwave mounted above the stove. A shimmer of movement had caught my eye and I had quickly shifted my gaze towards it under the power of a mind that was near its paranoia breaking point. That was when I saw the faint image in the reflection of the glass front. It wasn't clear since I wasn't looking at a mirror, but because of the way the sun cast its light through the side windows of the RV it created a slightly reflective surface. There, was a girl in that reflection, one mottled with indirect lighting but her features could be made out slightly and those features looked very familiar. "Is that...?" I couldn't finish my whispered question as my throat closed, choking off my words. Had I really seen what I thought I'd seen? "Kitty!" My supposed father's cry of alarm failed to stop me from spinning and racing towards the back of the RV, scrambling over the bed because I was just too frantic to dance around it, and straight into the adjoining bathroom. I slapped my hands down on the countertop and just stared. For several long moments the only sound in that small room was my breath coming in ragged, gasping breaths as I stared at the mirror. In it I saw a girl with long, chestnut-colored hair still tousled from sleep and vibrantly blue eyes that were currently wide with panic. She looked nothing like that happy image that I'd seen on the T.V. moments ago, and yet there was no denying that it was her I was looking at. I was that girl that I'd watched frolic and play with her parents in an idyllic forest setting and eat a delicious picnic lunch, and yet she was a stranger to me. I had no memory of that event, nor any other event of my life. As I stared into those reflected eyes I whispered, "Remember! Remember!" as though I could somehow force those memories back into my mind. I wanted...no, needed to remember who I was. I was desperate to. Yet my brain refused to cooperate and those precious pieces of history remained lost in the abyss of my consciousness, maybe never to return. Despite that, I couldn't deny that I was that girl in the video. I couldn't try and claim that her name wasn't Kitty since the parents had both addressed her by name multiple times. I couldn't deny that the two adults were her parents since she had, on multiple occasions, called the woman 'Mom' and the man 'Daddy'. Finally, there was no denying that the man in the other room was not whom he claimed to be, nor could I deny I was his daughter. I was torn between the evidence I'd seen with my own eyes and the utter nothingness that resided in my mind as my vision started to blur. From behind me I heard the soft querry of, "Kitty?" Slowly turning, not bothering to halt the progress of the tears that began to stream down my cheeks, I saw the image of the man whom I could not longer deny was my father standing there looking at me with parental concern. I opened my mouth to speak but my voice was momentarily choked back to a small croak. Swallowing the lump in my throat I managed to whisper in a raspy voice, "I don't remember. I want to remember." He didn't speak. He didn't try to offer me platitudes or soothing words that I would very likely have rejected out of hand just because of my emotional state. Instead, he simply opened his arms silently and waited... ...For perhaps a second before I threw myself into his embrace and bawled like a baby. **** I sipped from the mug of steaming chamomile tea, my favorite apparently, and let the warmth spread through my belly. Whether it was because of the chamomile itself or simply something more psychosomatic, it helped soothe my jangled nerves. I was sitting at the small kitchen/dining table in the RV with my father opposite me drinking from his own mug, his filled with coffee. He'd guided me there after I'd cried for a good ten minutes and went about making our drinks from the clearly well-stocked kitchen. He'd set the drinks on the table five minutes ago and neither of us had said a word yet. It was almost like some kind of oddball mexican standoff, seeing who would blink first. It was, I realized, completely stupid. "Where's Mom?" I asked quietly, breaking the silence. Dad, because there was no longer any point in denying he was anything but, closed his eyes as his brow wrinkled with a mixture of pain and sadness. He took a long swallow of his coffee before answering. "She died in the accident," he said with a heavy sigh. "Her seatbelt...failed," he said with obviously carefully chosen words. I shook my head and took another sip of tea while trying to ignore how badly my hands trembled. I knew I should have been feeling something, some kind of sadness and loss, but instead I just felt nothing. I had an odd feeling of being disconnected without knowing what my initial connection to these people had been like. The one thing I knew about my mother was she seemed to be happy if that video Dad showed me was any indication, but that was an outsider kind of knowledge. I really couldn't come up with any more empathy about the situation than a person who had just been told about the death of someone stranger's loved one. That in and of itself was more heartbreaking than the knowledge of my mother's death itself. "She was wonderful," my father said, breaking into my brooding thoughts. When I glanced up at him his eyes were focused on the black liquid swirling about in his mug. "So beautiful, so full of life," he continued, "And so kind. She would do pretty much anything for anyone." He smiled a little and looked up at me. "You take after her, you know," he told me. "Not only beautiful, but you've always been so sweet and kind to people, even those that tried to cause trouble." "I guess I'll have to take your word for it," I mumbled against the rim of my cup before taking a sip of tea, "I don't remember any of it." "I know," he said sadly and sighed, "but hopefully it will come back to you." "What if it doesn't?" I demanded quietly, looking at him with determined yet worried eyes. "What if I never regain my memories? I feel like I never had a life and now I'm wearing some stranger's." Reaching across the table he tried to take my hand but I shied away and chose to ignore the hurt look he gave me. Regardless whether or not this man was my father, he was still a stranger to me at this point. If he couldn't deal with the fact that I wasn't going to suddenly turn back into his perfect little daughter then screw him. "If that happens," he said with a touch of a bite in his words as he sat back, "then we'll just have to deal with it. Even though you don't remember it, you're still my daughter. I'll be damned if I'm going to let you simply give up and go hide for the rest of your life. If your memory doesn't come back, fine. We'll just have to start making new memories and I'll just tell you as much as I can about what your life was like before today." By the end of his little speech his voice had risen to the point that it was clear he was angry now, and most of that was undoubtedly directed at me. I couldn't really blame him for that, considering I was being quite a bitch about all of this. After all, the man had already lost his wife and now it must have felt to him like he was losing his daughter too. What made it worse, I'm sure, was the fact that here I sat before him, his flesh and blood, but not his daughter. I could only imagine how torturous this last half an hour must have been for him. I might not know who I was, but I knew that I wasn't a mean or heartless person. While I couldn't muster any feelings of grief for my dead mother, I had no trouble at all feeling my heart clench at the look of anguish on my father's face as he stared into the eyes of someone who was supposed to be his daughter but wasn't. Setting down my mug of tea, and working off of pure instinct, I stood and stepped around the table and slid onto the bench beside him. It was a snug fit but the seat was wide enough to accommodate both of us. While he looked at me in confusion and uttered, "What?" I slipped my arms around his waist and hugged him tightly while laying my head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry Dad," I said quietly, "I didn't mean to be such a bitch to you." He hesitated for a moment, maybe thinking I might have been playing some kind of trick on him, before he slipped an arm around my shoulders to return my embrace. "It's all right," he assured me before pressing a kiss to the top of my head, "I can only imagine how confusing this is for you." I nodded and the pair of us were silent for a few minutes. I'm not sure what Dad was thinking, but I was trying to come to grips with the fact that I might never again remember what my life was like before a half an hour ago. Some folks like to make jokes about people coming out of the womb fully grown, but in a surreal kind of way that was the situation I was in. The moment I woke up it was almost as though I had just been born. Oh sure I had an overall general knowledge of life and wouldn't have to go through the embarrassment of potty training or feeding myself, but I had no idea what kind of person I was other than what Dad had told me so far. He told me I was beautiful and resembled my mother, which was true enough based on the video I saw and my image in the mirror, but he also said I was sweet and kind. Was I? I had absolutely no basis for comparison beyond the now and the only evidence that pointed to such a personality trait was how I'd just apologized and hugged him for being so cold and mean. My mind kept spinning the question of who I was around and around and I knew I'd probably drive myself crazy trying to sort that out at this very moment. In an effort to shift my train of thought I asked, "Have we always had this R/V?" Hey, sometimes you came up with a solution to a problem by not thinking about it. Maybe that would work here too. Dad shook his head and I could feel his jaw shift into what felt like a small smile. "No. Your mother and I had talked about getting one since we like taking family road trips sometimes, but they were always way too expensive." "Are you gonna make me ask you to explain more?" I inquired after a few moments of silence. He chuckled and patted my shoulder. "Always so eager to get answers," he remarked and I immediately felt him stiffen. "That's another part of you," he explained before I could ask, "You always want to know the answer to a question. If someone else can't tell it to you you'll go off and look for answers yourself. It's the main reason why I made sure this thing had a really good satellite internet hook up when I got it. But to answer your question," he continued, "After the accident and the police investigation it was determined that there were several critical flaws in the safety features of the car you two were in, such as your seatbelt failing to lock, your mother's snapping, the airbags not going off, and more. In all honesty, once we got the report back the thing was really kind of a deathtrap." He sighed and shook his head. "It was only that car though. The manufacturer did a full recall and it was determined that somehow everything got screwed up during the assembly process." I shuddered at the notion that our car had basically been a ticking time bomb and it had pretty much been bad luck that me and Mom had been in it when it went off. "What about the other car?" I asked. "Were they hurt too?" "The other guy was some big-shot executive high on ecstasy," he said between clenched teeth as his face darkened with the memory, "He swerved into your lane and hit you head on. By all rights he should have died but because he was so loose and relaxed that he only had a few minor cuts and bruises. He's in jail now on a whole slew of charges." "Good," I whispered. If my mother was dead because of this asshole then I'm glad he was paying for it. Dad nodded in agreement with my statement before continuing. "After the trial I did the only thing I could do to try and make sure you were taken care of. I got a lawyer." He turned his head so he could give me a bitter smile. "Between the lawsuits against the executive, his company that hosted the party he was coming from where they provided him the drugs, and the car company, we won't ever have to worry about money for the rest of our lives." Even though this man was still little more than a stranger to me at this point, I was able to pretty clearly read between the lines of what he was saying. "It only took the death of your wife and my mother and probably permanent memory loss for me to get it," I said muttered in a sorrowful voice. He nodded and I could see a glimmer of pride in his eyes that I knew he wasn't happy about the reason behind our wealth. "I've made some pretty good investments that will keep us, well, pretty much rich well into the time when you have grandchildren. If you ever choose to have any," he said quickly. I couldn't help but smile a bit at that. "Moving a little fast aren't you?" I quipped. "I don't even know if I have a boyfriend." "You did," he told me sadly, "But that was one of the first memory gaps that formed after the accident. He just couldn't handle you not knowing who he was so he broke things off." "Since I don't remember him at all now I'm guessing I probably took it pretty well." I wish I could have kept the sarcasm out of my voice but it was simply how I felt. "You did," Dad agreed, "but you were very kind and understanding about it. The two of you parted on pretty good terms." "That's good at least." If I had to break someone's heart, even if it was completely against my will, I'm glad I was able to do at least a little something to make it easier. "So you bought this RV with the money?" I guessed. "After I sold the house. It was just too painful to stay and when being there didn't do anything to help with your memory I thought it best to just start fresh. I kept all of our family photos and videos," he assured me, "I just converted them all to digital and put them on our cloud drive. Oh that reminds me," he said with a snap of his fingers and gently nudged me off the bench so he could stand up and go into the bedroom. He returned moments later with a slim laptop in brushed aluminum. Instantly I recognized it as a top of the line Samsung model that ran the current, cutting edge Cyborg OS that operated primarily online as opposed to computers that used Windows or Mac. They had put Chrome OS out of business when it came to internet based operating systems. Now how they hell did I know all that? "Do you remember something?" Dad asked anxiously. "You look like you recognized this." I shook my head. "No, sorry. But I do know what kind of computer that is and that it's brand new." "We only got it about three weeks ago. Since most of our stuff is in a secure cloud storage and we have one of the fastest satellite internet connections available it lets us not have to worry about having hard drives all over the place." Reaching out, I took the laptop from him and set it on the kitchen table when I had a thought. "Dad, what do you do?" To his credit he didn't ask what I meant and merely smiled. "I'm a mechanical engineer, and a pretty good one if I do say so myself." "What about now that you don't have to work anymore? Won't you get bored?" He shrugged, leaned against the kitchen counter, and folded his arms. "I still work freelance. I have a website that I log into whenever we cross state lines that lets businesses know I'm in the area and they can contact me. It keeps me busy enough that I don't get bored." I nodded, but that just raised another rather important question. "What about school? I mean I'm only..." I had to stop there because I was completely blank on what my age was. "Fourteen," Dad supplied when I looked at him helplessly, "you just turned fourteen two months ago in March." "How do I go to school if we're constantly driving from state to state?" "Online courses," he told me and flipped open my laptop and powered it on. Less than two seconds later the screen lit up and a box in the center requested me to input a new password. "I set it up so you could change your password since you probably don't remember what your old one was," he explained. I nodded and only had to think for a moment before I typed in remember and hit enter. Instantly the home screen came up with a single text file right in the middle of the screen. After Dad nodded for me to continue I opened it to see all of my passwords to everything from Facebook to my email account. This meant that I would be able to glean a little more insight into the person that I was before I'd lost my memory. After all, what better way can you get to know someone then to look at their social media posts. Still, as I thought about it, it was more than a little creepy. Even though these were all my accounts it actually kind of felt like I was intruding into someone else's life. What if I discovered I wasn't exactly the perfect angel of a daughter Dad said I was? What if it turned out that was all just a cover and online I was a world-class bitch? Even though I still knew very little about myself I was absolutely certain that I wasn't mean or cruel. I just hoped that the old Kitty felt the same way. "When your memory gaps seemed to worse," Dad explained, interrupting my inner debate about whether I should look at my social media pages, "you thought it would be best to get all of your passwords written down somewhere. You also set up your computer to put in a new password each time you used it just in case you forgot your old one. It was actually a very smart thing to do," he finished proudly. "Yeah," I said more to myself than to him. "Pretty smart." "Are you getting hungry? I can make us some some sandwiches or maybe go get some takeout?" "Why?" I asked as I lifted my eyes to him and raised an eyebrow, "Are you a bad cook?" He shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "I'll freely admit I'm not the best in the kitchen, but I think I can muddle through a couple of ham and cheeses." Casting my eyes towards the refrigerator and cupboards I realized that, providing we had the proper ingredients, I could whip us up some pretty good club sandwiches. Standing from the table I cast a smile at Dad, probably the first I'd given him since waking up, and said, "Don't worry, I've got this." **** As much as I'd love to say that I made lunch, Dad and I talked some more, and everything was hunky dory, I'd be lying if I did. We didn't have some kind of sweet and tender movie scene where I suddenly transformed into his perfect daughter once more and we drove off into the sunset. The fact is, while I did make quite tasty club sandwiches, I spent probably five minutes going through all of the cupboards just trying to find the right fixings. After that, the two of us just sat at the table and most quietly ate our meal. I could tell wanted to talk some more, but by that point I was so emotionally wrung out that I might have actually started screaming if he kept talking about a past that I no longer had and pretty much begged him not to. I knew he would need to tell me more about myself and soon, but I needed time to process what I already knew before I was ready for more. Thankfully, it seemed like he understood this so he didn't push and instead just stuck with rather benign topics like how delicious the sandwich was and that we were heading to an RV park in central Virginia where we would pretty much be setting up camp for at least a couple of weeks. Dad said it was because he had a few jobs lined up, but I suspect it was probably so I would have some kind of stability, even if it was only temporary. That was ten minutes ago and after he insisted on cleaning up the kitchen I took my laptop and returned to the back bedroom with its adjoining bath, which Dad told me was mine other than the shower, which naturally we shared. Apparently the lounge area, as well as other parts of the vehicle, could extend outwards when the RV was parked and thus create another complete bedroom since couch pulled out into a queen- sized bed. That was where he slept, he told me. Once I'd closed the bedroom door I found myself once again staring into a stranger's face in the mirror. Now that I was a bit more clear-headed I studied the features reflected back at me to try and see if anything looked familiar. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but when I peered into mine the only thing I saw was a pair of wide, bright, vibrant blue eyes that would probably have boys going on and on about how they could drown in them. My nose was cute little affair with a slight upturn to it and my mouth, while not overly large, was full and, dare I say it, had very kissable lips. I wondered how many boys had thought the same thing just before kissing me. Did they like how soft they were? Did they like it when I would gently nibble on their nips before slipping my soft, pink tongue into their mouths? Did it feel good when I wrapped them around... Holy Shit! Where the fuck had that train of thought come from? My mind had been the farthest place possible away from sex and now suddenly I was wondering if a guy liked my mouth on his...? Jesus was I actually some kind of a sex-craving slut? I didn't have any real basis for comparison but I felt reasonably certain that most girls didn't start having sexual fantasies while trying to figure out just who the hell they were. Then again, maybe they did. Since I couldn't remember anyone I'd ever met, and any subsequent conversations about sex, maybe girls really did think about sex rather often. Lord knew it was the number one thing on their minds most of the time. Now how did I know that? Shaking my head I took a deep, steadying breath before returning to my self-examination. So the eyes and the mouth didn't do anything for me...other than get me seriously questioning just what kind of a girl I was. What about the hair. Other than being auburn in color while also falling several inches below my shoulders and having full, fantastic body, there wasn't anything really remarkable about it. My ears were small and close to my skull, my brows were thin and graceful without looking like I'd shaved them off and re-drew them with a pencil, and my complexion was a flawless peaches and cream. While there was no denying I was beautiful, it did absolutely nothing to help me in figuring out who or what kind of a person I was. Turning from the mirror with a sigh I went about rummaging through the various dressers and wardrobe of my bedroom. Maybe that would give me a bit more information. After only opening the wardrobe I was able to immediately come to the conclusion that I was most assuredly a girly girl. While there were a couple of pairs of what looked like snug-fitting jeans and a few sweaters, the remainder of the hanging clothes consisted of lightweight blouses and dresses of varying but mostly short lengths in a variety of materials ranging from cotton to silk. Given that I had fallen asleep wearing, an off-the-shoulder white peasant-style crop top that exposed my shoulders, taut stomach, and a generous amount of cleavage it was pretty obvious that I'd never been really shy about showing off my body. Oh sure the skirt covered me completely from the hips down, but it was snug around my hips, accentuating them even if it hid my legs. Since Dad hadn't mentioned anything to me about the clothes I guessed that this manner of dress was pretty normal for me. Top that off with the fact that I wasn't bothered at all by wearing this rather revealing clothing made me think that this was my normal style. A further look through my assortment of clothing revealed something that I couldn't quite decide if it was disturbing or not. When it looked through my lingerie drawers I discovered that not only was I a girly girl, but I was maybe a little naughty too. While there were a few plain cotton pieces, most of my underwear were delicate, lacy confections of silk or satin. While the bras would certainly offer support, it was clear their primary intention was to display. Without actually trying any of them on I was reasonably sure that any one of them would without a doubt showcase my chest in the best possible way. There were, of course, matching panties for every bra. In fact, each pair was bundled together so there was no need to hunt for a mate in a separate drawer. What surprised me a little was pretty much ninety-nine percent of the bottoms were thongs. Now, my first instincts told me that I had nothing against thongs panties. In fact, I was wearing a pair at that very moment and they were perfectly comfortable, lending credence to the idea that I indeed wore them quite often. Regardless of my lack of personal knowledge I did know that while that particular style was becoming more and more commonplace, they were still worn when a girl wanted to look and feel sexy. That line of thinking brought me back to my earlier sudden derailment into thoughts of sex. The combination of the sexy underwear and predilection for sexual fantasies had me once again wondering if I was some kind of slut that Dad wasn't aware of. A chime from my laptop pulled my attention from those worries and I flipped open the lid curiously. At first there was nothing unusual on the screen until I noticed the email app gently pulsing along the taskbar at the bottom. I clicked the app open and saw there were a host of previously received emails in the inbox that had already been read with the newest unread one at the top of the list in bold font. The sender's name was showing as unknown and the subject line only said: Open Me Now Kitty! Okay, so whoever sent this didn't want their name broadcast to anyone who could be looking at the screen. It also seemed like they knew my name. Of course, I knew that there were tons of ways that an email could be sent to me with my name being used that didn't necessarily mean the sender knew me. In the age of the internet there were spam bots and programs out there that were more than capable of lifting my name from social media or shopping sites. Could this possibly be a virus? No, I told myself, this particular computer had been created specifically because it didn't really have an operating system so it wasn't affected by viruses. That left the likelihood it was just spam. Since I didn't really feel like dealing with some stupid advertisement about how to increase my bust size or shrink my waist with a bs magical method I just deleted it and turned back to continue looking through my things. Less than two seconds later the computer chimed again and I looked back at it with a frown of annoyance. Once again the email app was pulsing, indicating a new email. Jeeze, did I get a lot of these spam messages? That thought quickly faded when I saw the new email was again from an unknown sender, only this time the subject line practically yelled at me: This isn't spam Kitty! Open this right now! I actually drew back from the computer as though I expect it to suddenly jump off the bed and attack me. I didn't think it was possible, but it almost felt like whoever had sent that email knew I'd just deleted the previous one. Was that even possible? The computer couldn't get viruses, at least as far as I knew, so how would anyone be able to detect the moment I deleted an email from them? There was brief confrontation in my head between curiosity over the strange email and what it contained and caution telling me that opening it could be very very bad. In the end curiosity won out, maybe Dad was right about me always wanting answers, and I clicked open the email. Well the computer didn't blow up or suddenly come alive and try to eat me or anything like that. Nope, it was just a plain old text email. However, it was what the text said that had my eyes widening as I read it: Kitty, I doubt you probably remember me. Not because it's been so long since we've talked, but because of your memory problems. Yes, I know about that. I'm WiseCrack and no that's not my real name. You and I have been talking for about a two days now. You thought something was fishy about your Dad and I've been looking into it for you. I haven't been able to come up with much yet but I did find something that worries me. Official records show your Dad to be a retired mechanical engineer with a wife who died in a car crash, but there are no records before six months ago about him having a daughter. There is a record of it now, but that data is showing that the file was only just recently created. I don't know what's going on with him yet but you need to get in touch me with as soon as you can. Make sure you delete this as soon as you finish reading it. I'll make sure it comes off the server so it can't be restored. For several minutes I sat there shaking and staring at the email in disbelief. This was a joke, a sick joke, it had to be. Whoever this...person...was, he was claiming that my Dad had been lying to me. Not only that, but up until six months ago I didn't even exist. What kind of bullshit was that? Dad had flat out showed me video of our whole family out enjoying a picnic together. There were photographs sitting in my room showing our family looking at each other lovingly. I even had a framed photo at the head of my bed with just me and my mother in it and she was looking directly at my photo self. Yeah Photoshop could do some great things when it came to messing with pictures and video, but it couldn't go to those extreme levels. Whoever this guy was, he was undoubtedly trying to screw with me. Maybe he was a former boyfriend who was pissed off that I'd broken up with him. Maybe that boy Dad told me about who I'd been dating at the time of the accident didn't leave our relationship on such a great not after all. Hell, it could have been some girl I once knew who was jealous of me for some insane reason. Whoever it was, it was pretty damn clear that they while they knew about my memory loss, they were just trying to mess with my head. "Well it's not going to work," I growled at the email before I stabbed the delete button and sent it flying off to the internet trash can before slapping the lid closed on the laptop. Dad obviously cared for me very much and I wasn't going to let some damn internet troll make me start questioning him. With a new level of determination I stood up and smoothed out my skirt before stepping out of my room. I was going to ride up front with Dad for the rest of the way to the RV park and show him that I trusted him and not some faceless freak. Of course, I wasn't going to tell him about the email since that would probably make him worry about my fragile emotional state. He had enough problems on his plate at the moment. Americamps RV Resort, Ashland, Virginia I was smiling and humming a soft ballad I didn't even know I'd heard before as I arranged plates and glasses the picnic table for dinner. While we had a perfectly serviceable dining area in the RV it was such a nice evening that it took very little to convince Dad that we should eat outside. So, while he was rustling up the fixings for hot dogs in the fridge I was assigned the task of arranging place settings. It was an easy job, especially since we were using paper plates and cups, and in under a minute I was done and waiting for Dad to bring out the food and condiments. While I waited I thought back to the last few hours of our trip that I'd spent curled up in the passenger seat of the RV and the conversations I'd had with my newly discovered father. At first it had been kind of awkward, for both of us. I still had no memory of who this man was and what kind of father/daughter relationship we had and he was trying to be sensitive to the fact that I lacked the memories he possessed. In fact, we didn't actually speak for a little bit at first other than him telling me 'hi' when I sat down next to him. Eventually though, I broke the ice by asking him to tell me about Mom. That was when I finally learned something about the mother I never knew. Because she was dead before I became, well, aware, it wasn't quite so strange as trying to cope with having a father I possessed no memory of. When it came to Mom, I imagine I went through what I suspect far too many teens my age had experienced when their mothers died either at the time of their birth or very shortly after. There was a distant sense of loss for someone I never had a chance to know, but it wasn't very keen because of that lack of ever having met her. Apparently I'd inherited a great deal of her. I shared her looks, which I could tell from the video of us, but apparently that was just the tip of the iceberg. Though I had yet to really experience it, I also possessed her kind heart and always tried to find the good in people. He said it wasn't uncommon for me to buy a sad child a small toy or stuffed animal when his or her parents couldn't really afford it. I was glad to hear that since my experience in the bedroom had me really questioning just what kind of a person I was. Apparently I was also quite active just like she'd been, despite my rather feminine wardrobe. I'd been interrupted by receiving that sick email so I never got to see that in addition to the dresses and skirts I also had a good assortment of athletic wear that I made very good use of. Running two or four miles each morning was common as was doing yoga in the RV with the sides popped out for adequate room. I had done some gymnastics as a child and there had been strong consideration to continue with it into my teens since I really enjoyed it, but Mom's death and our subsequent change to a more nomadic lifestyle put at least a temporary hold on that. That kind of thing continued for the remainder of the drive with Dad telling me about various different things about my mother such as how she and he had met, what her likes and dislikes were, and how we had a very close mother/daughter relationship. It was that last part that finally broke through the arm's-length distance I'd been keeping from myself. While I couldn't mourn the actual loss of my mother, I was beginning to mourn the loss of those moments that we'd shared. I would have much rather had all of those wonderful-sounding memories than to simply hear about them in a second-hand kind of way. It actually made me feel less of a person to be told about my life instead of having actually experienced it. I think Dad understood that I was becoming uncomfortable because it wasn't long before he changed topics to something more lighthearted like some recent movies that, interestingly enough, I remembered. I don't remember the act of seeing any of them, but I distinctly remembered the movies themselves in a weird, disconnected sort of way. It was almost like the knowledge of them had been somehow streamed directly into my brain instead of taking in the visuals with my eyes. As we went through other common topics of conversation such as news, sports (which I found I didn't really care for), entertainment, and more, I found myself having very similar experiences. While I was quite knowledgeable about most of the things we discussed, I had no idea how I'd acquired said knowledge to begin with. Once again it was almost as though all of this information had been beamed into my head and completely bypassed the entire process of how I gained it. Dad failed to notice my unusually detailed understanding of our topics, nor did he seem to realize that my inner concerns about it were growing more and more. He just seemed happy that we were able to have normal, everyday conversations where I was able to be an active participant instead of playing twenty-questions all the time. To be honest, I was kind of happy about that too because it made me feel a little more normal. By the time we reached the RV park and driven to our assigned campground I had decided to, for the moment anyway, just stop worrying about my oddly specific lack of personal memory and simply try to take back my life as a young girl and my father?s loving daughter. That was primarily the reason why I was able to smile and hum to myself while getting the table ready for our dinner. My problems would still be there in the morning, or at least I assumed they would be, so why not put them aside at least for a few hours and try to enjoy myself? There would be more than enough time to deal with them later. Since the matter of setting out the dishware was easily done and Dad still hadn?t returned with the food I decided I should probably see about getting a fire started in the small stone fire pit the campground provided. Fortunately this place did a great job of taking care of its clients and there was a small pile of kindling and a large pile of firewood neatly stacked beside the pit. Apparently I had done some camping in my life because I instinctively knew how to properly position the logs and how to assemble the kindling so it would effectively catch the split logs on fire. That left the question of how to light the kindling. As I crouched beside the fire pit with my skirt hiking up over my knees so it wouldn?t get dirty I tried to remember if we kept any matches or a lighter around. A quick review of my lunch preparations reminded me there was a long-necked candle lighter in one of the drawers by the stove and I snapped my fingers with the realization. It?s hard to explain what I experienced in that next moment. The moment my fingers snapped I felt a very odd pulse of heat that ran from my chest, across my shoulder, down my arm, into my hand, and through my snapping fingers. It wasn?t at all painful, more like the gentle warming you get from standing in direct sunlight. I caught a brief blue/white flash out of the corner of my eye and then suddenly the kindling had burst into flames. Instantly I scrambled backwards away from the fire pit, my feet tangling up in my skirt and landing me squarely on my ass in the dirt. For several seconds I just stared at the fire as the kindling ate at the splits surrounding it before they too began to catch. What the hell was that! I thought wildly. Immediately I lifted my hand before my eyes, worried that despite not feeling any kind of pain that I?d somehow burned myself on...something. However my hand was perfectly pink and smooth with absolutely no signs of injury. ?Did I...?? Shaking my head I pushed to my feet and brushed the dirt off of my skirt before once more lifting my hands to my eyes. It was impossible, and I really wanted to just write it off as being crazy, but somehow I?d lit the kindling without any matches or a lighter. It was as if I?d somehow projected a small flame or something from my hands at the twigs. Now, I was aware of mutants. Hell, I had a reasonable, detailed knowledge of them that made me wonder if I?d done a report in school about them once. Could it be possible I was one of them? Dad had never mentioned anything about it. He?d never even hinted at the possibility of it or that he or Mom were mutants. Was that kind of thing hereditary or did just just spontaneously happen? From what I could recall with the information I possessed about the subject, science still had no real idea of what created a mutant other than it had something to do with genes or DNA. I suppose that meant that I could be one even if Mom or Dad hadn?t been. Focusing on the one hand that I?d snapped my fingers with, I tried to somehow will fire to appear. Over and over again I repeated the words ?fire? in my mind but my hand was still the same as it ever was. ?Damn,? I muttered. Maybe I really was going crazy and I hadn?t done anything. Maybe I actually had a lighter or matches on me and used it to start the fire. Oh no,I thought. Had I just had another loss of memory? Had I gone back into the camper, gotten the lighter, started the fire, and then put it back and completely lost that memory? Was I getting worse? I thought I heard a voice saying something quietly before I heard the crunch of gravel indicating footsteps behind me. Whirling about I saw Dad come walking around the RV with a package of hot dogs, buns, and some packets of various condiments. ?Hi Kitten,? he said with a smile, ?Got everything for dinner. Oh hey, you got the fire going too. Great. How did you get it going without a lighter?? Westlake Industries Headquarters Complex, Pennsylvania ?What do you mean you can?t locate him?? Harold Westlake snapped angrily. The man he spoke to, a rather nondescript blond businessman, shrunk back at the man?s tone and tried very hard not to whimper. ?I?m sorry sir, but by the time we knew what had happened he?d had already disappeared with all of his research, experiment data, and the project.? ?Fuck!? the formidable man in impeccable Armani yelled as he slammed his fist down on the large oak desk. ?How in the hell did security not see two people just walk out of the complex?? ?Apparently,? another man, this one apparently unfazed by the CEO?s ire, said nearby, ?It looks like Blake was able to override our security protocols and loop the camera footage for twenty minutes before the system reset.? Westlake looked over at the speaker, a man in his mid thirties dressed in slightly ripped jeans and an Ozzy Osbourne T-shirt, as he sat hunched over a laptop resting on the table of the small sitting area within the office. ?What about our security personnel? They wouldn?t have just let them walk out.? The man shrugged and leaned back on the couch he was seated on. ?It?s tough to tell without the camera footage to back it up, but according to our internal reports it looks like they were all hit with some kind of sleeping agent. I don?t know how it was delivered because none of the men have any puncture marks and there weren?t any obvious traces of a delivery method, but it there was a very high concentration of Temazepam in their blood when medical checked them out. That?s a sleep drug,? he explained at Westlake?s frown of confusion. ?What about the research, all of the experiment data? How could he have gotten it all without leaving some kind of a trace? We have backups just for that purpose!? the CEO practically shouted. The man with the laptop shook his head. ?I?m still in the preliminary stages of trying to figure that out, but I am finding some traces of what seems to be a computer virus.? ?Isn?t your department supposed to protect us against problems like computer viruses?? the blond accused, clearly happy to start casting the blame elsewhere. ?Normal viruses, yes,? the other man allowed, ?but this is no normal virus. I need to look into it for sure but I have a bad feeling this one might be similar to others I?ve been briefed about before.? After tapping out several commands on the laptop he stopped, blinked in surprise, and looked up at Westlake with a disbelieving expression. ?Did you seriously let a devisor have access to your computer mainframe?? Westlake blinked in shock and quickly shook his head. ?Of course not. We don?t have any gadgeteers or devisors on staff here specifically because of the potential security risks. Hell I had to fight for your position here because of your history as a hacker.? ?Well you had one in your lab,? the man said with a bit of disdain. ?I?ll have to dig at it to verify but this virus is starting to look like it originated at Blake?s terminal.? ?How does that make Blake a devisor and not just really good with computers?? the blond demanded with worry in his voice. Since he was the one responsible for the majority of their hiring the blame was once more starting to shift in his direction. ?Because this virus is fundamentally alive,? the former hacker explained as though speaking to a child. ?And has remnants of coding that no human could produce. It?s almost like whoever wrote this mixed computer coding and biological DNA and gene sequencing. It?s unlike anything I?ve ever seen and something only a devisor could come up with. If I hadn?t already known about it I wouldn?t have any clue what I was even looking at.? ?Is it infecting the rest of our systems?? Westlake asked and even with all of his angry bluster it was clear that he was afraid the next words he was going to hear was the virus had infiltrated their banking protocols and were in the process of draining them dry. ?It was,? the hacker confirmed, ?But only briefly.? His fingers flew over the keys faster than both men could follow. ?It looks like a small portion of the company?s funds were withdrawn, about five million.? ?That?s all?? the CEO asked in clear relief. Considering the company currently held a value in the billions a couple million dollars was little more than a drop in the bucket. ?Looks that way. I can?t tell where it went either because it looks like the virus funneled it out of the system by piggybacking several scheduled transactions. There?s no way I can separate the real ones from the one that were embezzled.? ?What about the rest of our data? All of our other projects? Are we losing them too?? ?No,? the hacker said with a shake of his head, much to the relief of the others, ?It looks like the extent of the virus was to wipe that one specific project and take the five million. Once it did that a suicide chain initiated and started breaking the virus down. It?ll be completely gone in about twenty minutes.? ?Can you get into the code and see how it was made or who made it?? the blond asked. ?If I?d been told about it as soon as it happened, maybe,? the hacker said with a pointed glare at the blond man, ?It?s far too degraded at this point and I was lucky to find out what I have. I?ll try to rip out as much information as I can in the next twenty minutes but don?t hold your breath.? With that he returned his attention to the laptop and began typing rapidly. ?I appreciate anything you can glean Mr. Wiseman,? Westlake said graciously. The blond businessman nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Westlake?s harsh clearing of his throat. Slowly turning his head he found himself pinned beneath the withering glare of his employer. ?Mr. Johnson,? the imposing man said darkly, ?I think you and I need to have a conversation regarding your future with this company. Please, have a seat.? While the blond man and the CEO sat in their respective chairs the man at the laptop allowed himself a small, brief smile. Americamps RV Resort, Ashland, Virginia ?I can?t believe her dad actually turned the sprinklers on you!? I laughed before covering my mouth with my hands to stifle the sound. ?Well he wasn?t my biggest fan in the beginning,? Dad said as he smiled and took another bite of hot dog. ?You have to remember that at the time I was pretty much a geek while she was probably the most popular girl in school. In his eyes your mother and I should have had nothing to do with each other.? ?So what got her to go out with you?? I asked as I sipped some lemonade from my cup. He shrugged and looked a little sheepish when he answered. ?The first time was pretty much just a ?thank you? for helping her out with some problems she was having in physics. I?m sure she was just being nice but I thought I?d won the lottery. I?m ashamed to admit it but I had some pretty wild fantasies that she would be dazzled by my wonderful and unappreciated personality and fall madly in love on the spot,? he finished with sarcastic bravado and puffed out his chest. When he relaxed his smile softened and it was clear he was thinking back to that time. ?Surprise surprise it didn?t, but luckily I didn?t make a complete ass of myself on that first date so we stayed pretty decent friends afterwards. It wasn?t long after that she asked me out again, only this time it was for a real date.? He paused for a moment and I thought I saw his brow wrinkle slightly, almost as though he was struggling with something, but the light from the fire was casting wildly dancing shadows so I wasn?t sure. ?The rest,? he finally said, ?As they say, is history. We continued to date for the rest of high school and through college until we finally got married. It wasn?t long after that you came along.? His warm smile returned and was directed at me. I returned the smile, though I couldn?t quite drum up the same kind of nostalgic warmth he did. Even though it was a nice story and made me feel good in an abstract kind of way, to me it was still just a story and not a life experience. Beyond that, I was still bothered by the whole thing with the campfire. When Dad had first asked how I?d started it without using a lighter I could only stand there while opening and closing my mouth. I had no idea how to tell him that I?d somehow gained mutant powers that let me light fires since, for all I knew, he might hate mutants or even be a card-carrying member of Humanity First. Luckily, I guess, he had seemed to notice something and crouched down by the fire. When he stood up he had a book of matches in his hand. ?Oh, guess you found these with the plates huh?? he had said before going about the task of getting the food ready to cook. The problem was, I distinctly remembered not having any matches when I brought out the plates. What?s more, I didn?t remember that book of them being there when I?d jumped back after the fire had started. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Dad that I was starting to lose time and memories again when he started talking about the best way to go about cooking the hot dogs. After that I just kind of got lost in our conversation and figured I had just been lost in thought before and had grabbed the matches and lit the fire without realizing it. That was how we ended up laughing over the stories he was telling me about when he first met Mom. It was still in the back of my mind that something weird had definitely happened to me, but at the moment it just seemed so inconsequential compared to this opportunity to bond with a father that I still didn?t really know that I sort of chose not to worry about it. Besides, it was very likely that it was all in my head. ?I feel kind of bad,? Dad suddenly said, even though he still wore that pleasant smile. Tilting my head slightly I blinked in surprise. ?Why would you feel bad?? ?Well here I am going on and on about myself. It feels a bit like bragging.? I couldn?t help but smile at his selflessness and reached out to cover his hand with my own. ?Dad,? I told him gently, ?My entire life was a blank slate up until this morning. If I had any funny stories I could tell you I would, but I don?t-? I stopped then because something popped into my head at that very moment. I have no idea where it came from or how I knew about it, but something told me Dad would get a kick out of it. ?Actually, I think I may have something that might give you a chuckle or two.? ?Oh?? he asked with a raised eyebrow. Nodding I sat back and took a sip of my lemonade before starting. ?So, these three guys went out drinking one Friday night, in New York City I think.? There was a slight flinching around Dad?s eyes but he nodded for me to continue. ?So anyway, they go to this bar somewhere downtown and it?s a pretty rough place. I don?t mean like a hangout for the Hell?s Angels or anything but it was pretty much a dive bar. But the place had character, you know. It had been there for who knew how long and everyone knew pretty much everyone there. I think these guys might have been there a couple of times before but they weren?t regulars or anything.? Turning a little I looked into the crackling fire and as the tale came faster and faster into my mind I could almost see it playing out like a movie within the flames. ?So,? I continued, ?These guys go in and order a few beers and just start drinking. After a little while they?re getting pretty buzzed when one of them sees this gorgeous blond sitting at the far end of the bar. He elbows his buddies and points her out before telling them he?s going to go sweet talk her into going home with him. Well, his two friends took one look at the woman and told him she was way out of his league. Well this doesn?t stop the guy from sauntering down the bar like he?s cock of the walk and slides onto the stool next to her and says, ?You know, you really stand out in a crowd.? Well this woman turns on her stool and what does the guy see but a man, dressed in drag, with makeup painted on like a clown and a full on five o?clock shadow. He takes one look at the guy, bats his eyelashes, and says, ?Well aren?t you the sweetest thing.?? I was smiling by the end of the story because, to me anyway, it was funny. While I?d been telling it I could actually see the events playing out before my eyes and that moment when the over-the-top drag queen turned around was simply hilarious. However, when I turned my head to look at my Dad to see if he thought it was just as funny I found him frowning, nearly scowling at me. ?I guess I?m not a great storyteller,? I said sheepishly and looked down at my cup. ?I don?t think that?s an appropriate thing for a girl your age to be talking about,? he admonished in a quiet but clearly upset voice. ?Where did you hear it?? ?I dunno,? I replied quietly and shrugged, not at all liking the anger I could hear creeping into his tone. ?It just kind of popped into my head.? ?That?s not the kind of story that just pops into your head,? he insisted, standing up so he was towering over me with his hands curling into fists at his side. ?Now tell me where you heard it,? he demanded in nearly a shout. I cowered back under this sudden aggression that was coming from him. This was certainly a new side to my father and I certainly didn?t like it. In fact, it was really starting to scare me. If I didn?t know any better, and let?s face it I really di