The flames licked and danced across my skin, each touch like a blazing inferno, fighting for power against the ice-cold chill that ran up from the ends of my toes to the very tips of my fingers. My throat tightened as it fought against the thick, overpowering smoke that clogged my lungs and threatened each breath I attempted to inhale. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't breathe, nor could I see through the grey clouds of smoke that filled the small space around me.

Terrified shrills rang out around me, but I couldn’t decipher where the sounds were coming from. Everything was distorted and distant. I wanted to move, to reach out and break free, but my failed attempts held me back.

Time seemed to pass me by in a blur of cries and well-rehearsed blasts.

Before I knew what was happening, my limp body—fragile and weakened from fighting—was lifted from the sting of the leather that had been pressing against me, and pulled from the confines of the car before I was quickly, yet carefully, lowered to the cold ground.

My lungs fought for air.

My eyes fought for sight.

But before I could gain either, another blast, much louder and more aggressive, billowed out around me.

The screams grew louder, erupting from every angle, and I probably would have joined in, too, had I known what was happening

Time passed and the ghostly sounds continued until, eventually, there was nothing but...

Silence.

I could say that thirteen months ago, my life had been simple. I’d left sixth form and was preparing for college life in a new town not too far away from where I had grown up. But saying it had been simple would be a lie. I had no idea what I was doing thirteen months ago, or the person I had been before the accident. I only know what they—my parents—chose to tell me, and unfortunately for me, that wasn’t a great deal.

The day I woke up in a hospital bed, my whole world had crumbled around me. I had no idea what I was doing there or why there were so many people around me, staring at me as though something was wrong. Other than being confused, I felt fine. Sore, maybe, but fine. Then the doctor sat beside my bed and informed me I had suffered severe memory loss brought on by the accident. I had no idea what he was talking about.

Why was this happening?

Why was I there?

That’s what I asked them.

“Lola, you were in a terrible accident.” And that was their answer.

I couldn’t remember the accident, nor did I understand why I was suffering with memory loss. Memory loss.

That was something I’d only ever heard of in stories. I’d never actually seen it for myself or witnessed anything resembling that kind of suffering. It was almost unheard of. Almost impossible to believe. Can you imagine one day waking up and not knowing who you are? Not being able to remember anything from your past, or even how you ended up in hospital in the first place? If that isn’t frightening enough, just imagine seeing two strangers sitting at your bedside in floods of tears, holding your hand, soothing you as though they know you well. Yeah, that was by far the freakiest, most intense situation I’d ever experienced. I did remember that moment.

I also remembered the day I was released from hospital. The only visual sign of injury had been an ugly red burn, which had left a mark on the underside of my wrist that refused to heal. Other than that, I looked pretty normal. Inside, though, I was far from normal. My injuries had faded, but I was still scarred from deep within. I was left feeling like a stranger trapped in some warped nightmare that I couldn’t escape, stuck in an unfamiliar, big house with two strangers I couldn't even remember the names of. I didn’t know who I was, why I was there, or what had even happened to me. I was someone else, in someone else’s world. I wanted to run, but I had nowhere to run to. No one to save me from the nightmare I was living.

A few days after I had been released, I started to learn about my life. Well, little parts, anyway. My parents, who I’d soon learned were called Jen and Andy Henderson, had slowly begun to fill me in on some of the important aspects of my life that would come to be of use to me. Mainly my name, date and place of birth, other family members, their names, and the plans I had made for my future. Including the college I’d apparently had my heart set on attending.

Winslow Falls was a top college situated in the south of England. Most students from the south had listed Winslow Falls as their chosen college, and apparently, so had I. Because of the accident and the situation I was in, though, Mr. Stokes, the head at Winslow, wasn’t convinced my attendance there was such a good idea considering I was still vulnerable and seeking medical assistance in the form of Doctor Jacobs, my therapist. Andy, being the top dog at Henderson’s Solicitors, saw to that, though, and soon Mr. Stokes had agreed that if I completed a series of tests and proved to them I wasn’t completely crazy, I could keep my place. They consisted of the usual mathematics and English test papers, science and French as chosen extras, and lastly, something that wasn’t so easy to find—character references since the accident. I guess Andy had seen to that one, too. As for the test papers? I aced them all on my own, scoring higher than I had previously, which was a complete shock to everyone, myself included, considering the memory loss I’d suffered.

I was now a few months into college life, but I still didn’t know who the hell I was or where my life was headed. It didn’t completely suck, though. For the most part, I enjoyed my classes, and the teachers were nowhere near as bad as I’d expected them to be. Probably the biggest downfall was studying with students younger than myself to earn extra credit, but even that wasn’t entirely bad. Knowing I had helped them, even in the smallest of ways, filled me with a sense of pride each and every time.

I basked within the quiet walls of the library and each historical book that lived there. The way the old leather bindings felt between my fingertips was something I could never quite explain. The smell brought comfort in a world that never truly felt like it belonged to me. If these old books had feelings, I was sure they felt the same as me—wedged between the shiny new ones, fading into the background as though they never existed. That pretty much summed up my everyday life.

I loved history, especially the Tudor period. I wouldn’t have wanted to be one of Henry’s unfortunate wives, but I would happily have played dress up and pretended to be one. The elegant gowns that stuck up at the waist were things of beauty. I often dreamt of living in that time period, traipsing along the narrow cobbled streets to market, basket in hand as I hummed along to a timeless piece written by Robert Fayrfax. Often, when I dreamt, I was there living through the eyes of an elegant princess, guarded by her men. A girl could dream, right?

But in reality, college life didn’t completely suck. I’d even managed to bag myself a friend or two, which had been hard considering I’d started later than most. It also didn’t help that I was one of the oldest in my classes because I had to start right at the very beginning. Most students were a year younger than me, but luckily I found that I wasn’t alone. Aubrie—or Brie, as everyone called her—had started at Winslow just a few months before me and there were only a couple of months between us. She had travelled the world after finishing school at eighteen, deciding to take a year out to discover herself. Her parents, though, having decided that she needed to further her education, had enrolled her at Winslow Falls. I was thankful they did, but Brie? Well, she wasn’t one to stick around in the same place for long. She grew itchy with the repetitive life that college brought her. She always wanted more, to see the world, visit many places, and seek out as many handsome men as possible. She was great, though—loud, but great all the same.

My life wasn’t as easy as Brie’s. In fact, every day was a struggle, but I continued to get through it all the same. Even now, over a year after the accident, I held on to the hope that one day soon I would remember something that’d been missing since I’d woken up. I would remember the accident and the girl I had been before it. I would exist again.

I gazed fondly into the mirror, fingering the heart shaped locket that hung around my neck, the silver glistening against the ray of sunlight that had crept through the small gap in the curtains. The usually dull metal sparkled brilliantly as a new ray of light poured in, making it more beautiful than ever before. I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away. Then again, I never really could. There was something about the beauty of the metal that kept me in a trance, holding me captive.

I was never sure how it got there or who had even bought it for me, but I knew it was precious. The delicate chain felt so small and fragile against my fingers. Every morning I woke up and instinctively searched for it, afraid it would somehow be missing. I wasn’t even sure if it was mine to touch, but I did know that I couldn’t live without it now, and the thought of doing so caused my chest to tighten and my breathing to become erratic. Doctor Jacobs assured me that one day I would remember the accident and who I had been before it, but until that day, the only thing I had left was this beautiful locket and the four-inch scar on the inside of my left wrist.

As time went on, the scar started to become less noticeable, and the pearl coloured flaw slowly began to blend in with my already pale skin. One day, I wouldn’t be able to notice it at all, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

The scar might have looked ugly to most people—I wasn’t naive enough not to notice the way the other students at college looked at it in disgust—but to me it was my hope of one day remembering. If that meant I had to endure their stares and quiet whispers until I remembered then I would.

“Lola? Aubrie’s here. You don’t want to be late, honey,” Jen called up from the bottom of the stairs. I called her Jen because calling her anything else—like Mum—felt wrong. Although I knew she was my mother, saying it out loud, or to myself, just never felt comfortable. There were times after the accident when I would find myself standing in front of this very mirror, practicing the word over and over again. It didn’t matter how many times I tried or how many attempts I made at calling her the one word I knew she was desperate to hear, it just wouldn’t happen. I hated how that made her feel, and I hated that I couldn’t say it. It wasn’t all that hard really. Mum… It’s a word used daily, but to me it felt like a complete tongue twister.

Raking my fingers through my dark, tangled messy hair, I pulled it across one shoulder and sighed. Jen was right. I really didn’t want to be late. Late meant walking into class alone when everyone else had already been seated. The thought of being the centre of attention made me feel anxious, and I rubbed the underside of my wrist, instantly feeling calmer. I glanced one last time at my reflection in the mirror and blew out a breath, my shoulders rising and falling.

“Just coming,” I mumbled, reaching for my bag and tossing it over my shoulder.

Only eight hours, I thought to myself.

Thankfully, the morning didn’t drag half as much as I’d thought it would. Listening to Brie droning on all morning about her new beau, Riley, made the time pass quicker. For once, I was thankful for the love fest that was happening in front of me.

Not…

“Will you two please get a room?” I pleaded, already feeling awkward.

Riley pulled away, a sly grin spreading across his face. “What’s up, Lo? Jealous?”

Snorting, I rolled my eyes. “Purrleeeease.”

I liked Riley. He was an arse, but he was probably one of the few who didn't treat me as though I was crazy. He cracked bad jokes that always made me laugh, even when I didn’t really get them, and Brie really liked him. Not that she ever told him that. Brie wasn’t forward when it came to spilling her emotions. She was pretty much a closed book, but I knew, even if Riley didn’t, that she felt a lot more for him then she let on. As for Riley? I was thankful he included me in conversation, even if it was for Brie’s sake. Bad jokes aside, he was one of the good ones.

“Ah, don’t be like that. There’s plenty of me to go around,” he quipped, holding out both arms as if I was actually going to curl myself into them and confess my undying love for him.

Did I mention he was an arse?

“Hey, I thought I was the only girl for you?” Brie’s cherry red lips puckered up as she scowled.

“You know you are, baby,” he assured her, pulling her against him. That seemed to please her. She reached up on tiptoes and pulled him against her mouth. Riley pulled back just long enough to say, “Sorry, Lo. You can’t have me. If you’re feeling left out I could always hook you up with one of the lads on the team.” Then he continued to suck face with my best friend.

My eyes widened in horror. “Don’t you dare,” I warned. “I already told you, I am not interested in Darren.”

Darren and Riley were on the football team together. I hadn’t realised just how huge college football was until I came here. I knew it was big in America, but this was England. Wasn’t it all Premier League and First Division? I never followed football fully, but I had been to a couple of games during my first week here. Mainly to please Brie. I never really understood what I was watching or who I was cheering for, so I sat in silence, happy with the fact that I had found someone who didn’t believe the rumours or think I was a complete nut case.

Riley had been grilling me about Darren since my first day at Winslow Falls. I liked to think that, under normal circumstances, I would’ve given him a chance. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t attractive or anything. In fact, he was quite the opposite. Darren was tall and tanned with messy blonde hair that fell across his brow, shielding one baby blue eye. His eyes were a stark contrast to his olive skin, which made the striking irises pop. I wasn’t the only girl to notice how well built he was. His broad shoulders carried his muscular back in a way that made it appear as if he had just walked right out of a Calvin Klein commercial. His tight t-shirts clung to his back and each defined muscle was almost always on display, rippling with each movement he made. He oozed confidence, but he wasn’t cocky. Not really. He was just a really decent boy with a really, really good looking face. But as far as any kind of relationship with Darren went, I was far too messed up for someone like him. I had a feeling he felt that way, too, although he would never purposely set out to make me believe that.

“I wasn't talking about Darren,” Riley said, quirking a brow and cutting off my thoughts.

I followed his eyes to where they had landed and instantly groaned.

Taylor fuckin’ Lawson.

“Nuh-huh. No effin’ way. You can remove that idea from that insane brain of yours right now.”

Brie put a pause on her make-out session and eyed Taylor curiously. “Seriously? What is his deal anyway? He looks about ready to kill you, or someone. Talk about intense.”

I glanced up through furrowed brows and shrugged a shoulder. She was right. He looked about ready to kill someone, which was no surprise really. Taylor Lawson was the definition of a bad boy: tall and muscular with deep brown eyes that made you want to bare your soul to him, and a whole lot more. His chocolate brown hair was almost always styled in a way that seemed effortless. Except, of course, when he’d just showered and it was all messy, and… Anyway, it wasn’t too long, but not too short that you couldn't reach out and grab those silky strands and… Gah. I would not go there. I couldn’t.

Taylor Lawson, unlike Darren, was over-confident, cocky, and as arrogant as they came. And as my thoughts of disgust engulfed me, I blinked and realised he was coming right at me.

I swallowed back the lump that had formed in my throat, turned and lowered my eyes back to safety, my body instantly tensing up as I felt him getting closer.

“Hey up, Tay man. How’s that left foot of yours? Ready for the big game Friday?” Riley asked as they bumped fists.

What was with that?

“Mate, I was born ready,” a deep drawl said behind me. An embarrassing, contradictory chill ran through me when his hot breath hit the sensitive spot behind my ear. I didn’t dare look back to see if he had noticed my reaction. If by some miracle he hadn’t, then the firery red cheeks I was currently sporting would be a dead giveaway.

I wasn’t sure why Taylor affected me as much as he did. Okay, so he was easy on the eye, practically wrapped up in a blanket of sheer perfection, but this was Taylor. It was hard for any sane woman not to notice him when he walked into a room, or catch a whiff of the fresh, masculine scent he carried with him. And as much as I tried to act as though he didn’t exist, I was beginning to find it extremely hard. Especially since he seemed to be everywhere I turned, invading my personal space with that hard to resist scent and hot as hell body. It also didn’t help that my only friend in the world was dating his teammate. Of course Taylor played football. His muscular thighs and easy charm were dead giveaways.

I often wondered if the old Lola would have liked Taylor. Would she have found him as irresistible as the other girls around here? Or would she, like me, have been put off by the typical football star attitude, thinking he owned the ground he walked upon? I couldn’t answer for her, but a small part of me hoped she would have had at least some strength to resist him. Maybe, just maybe, she would’ve preferred Darren instead. That thought made me feel a little better. Taylor made me feel nervous, and more often than not, I found myself rubbing the underside of my wrist to seek out that safe place I so desperately needed.

With Riley and Taylor engrossed in all things football, I used the moment to make my escape. I didn’t need to be around Taylor any longer than I had to be, and I wanted to get to my history class before anyone else.