The Amnesiac

Beneath the harsh glare of the interrogation room's lone bulb, a woman sat, her wrists chafing against the cold steel of handcuffs. Confusion etched deep lines across her face—a face that had been splashed across the evening news, labeled as a murderer. Yet her own name remained a mystery to her, as elusive as a wisp of smoke in a gale. Who am I? The question pounded in her temples with the ferocity of a judge's gavel. Accusations swirled like vultures around a carcass, but her mind—a treac...