"Amnesiac"

She's sitting at her desk, writing something down a poem or a story of some sort something to keep her mind afloat and going. The sound of claws clipping against the hard wood floor remind her of the cat she has, what was it's name? Teapot is making such a loud noise though she could've sworn she had just taken it off the burner. She gets up and goes into the kitchen, the sun was setting though wasn't it just bright out; she remembers because the light had hurt her eyes when she looked up--or wait that could've just been the lamp. What is she doing in the kitchen again? Oh yes, the tea though when she goes to take it off the burner she doesn't realize that it's hot and sets a burning pain into her palm. There's no water in the pot though for it to spill everywhere, it's all turned to steam because the tea has been on since eight in the morning and now it's ten at night. How long had it been ringing? Suddenly the phone begins to call and she walks over to it without picking up the teapot.    
 
"Hello?" She asks.    
 
"Oh, Nickol it's so nice to hear from you! Is everything alright, you haven't returned any of my calls, we've all been worried sick." The woman replies her voice unstopping of sounding happy no matter the subject.  
 
"Do I know you?" She asks pushing her hair behin her ear, who was this woman?  
 
"It's me, Justine, don't you remember or are you having memory problems again?" The woman known as Justine asks concerned for a moment though silenced when Nickol hung up the phone in fear.    
 
She didn't know anyone with the name 'Justine' did she? How did she know that she had memory problems sometimes? Maybe they had been high school friends or had known each other through work. She suddenly smelled an awfully horrid smell, one that will not soon forget, a smell like helplessness and fear, maybe torture. She turned to the smell and to her horror saw a sprawled out body of a mangy and skinny cat, laying by the food bowl which had no food and no crumbs. How long had it been there? When did she get a cat? Did she forget to feed it? She covered her mouth but managed to some how get the courage to pick up the dead corpse and throw it in the trash, within a plastic bag of course; though by the time she did this she had felt as though she were throwing away something someone else left behind, something she didn't remember naming or buying for herself.  
 
Something's missing she could tell you that, something was gone but she didn't know what or who it was. She held her hand up to her head and let out a trembling sigh trying to remember what the brain had somehow forgotten. What day was it again? Sunday or maybe Monday? She couldn't tell you, she couldn't remember the date. The phone started to ring again but she glared at it almost with a frightened look, each time it ran the more her tears filled around her waterlines.    
 
"Stop calling me!" She screamed as she grabbed the phone in its entirety and threw it to the ground so plastic broke away and batteries flew out from under it across the floor, wires stopped being afraid to show their faces from under the casing.  
 
Her anger was being sewn into the empty pieces of her brain and she couldn't help but to think that something was stealing her memory, something was taking her life away. She screamed once more and slammed her fists into the glass of her cabinet, shard piercing and cutting her knuckles and hands, cling, clang against the floor. Though she didn't stop there, she picked up a glass shard and cut into every curtain she didn't remember buying or hanging up, they weren't hers they were some one else's and she was just living there. She broke the TV, punched holes into walls with a hammer, flipped her bed and the entertainment center, ripped up every book and/or journal, smashed every nail polsih she could get her hands on, and burnt every article of clothing in her closet.  
 
After she was done with her outburst she sat heavily into the chair by her desk, which now had many cracks, dents and chips due to the hammer she continually slammed into it. Suddenly her eyes looked down to the notebook, which she hadn't abused, and began to read:  
 
My name is Nickol Philips. I am 28 years of age. I have brown hair and brown eyes. I have a cat named 'Benjamin' and have to feed him everyday, along with clean his litterbox. I went to South Brown Medical School so I could be a doctor or a nurse. I have a few friends which call every so often; their names being Anne-Marie Burgess, Angela Simpson, Justine Ross, and Gary Hackett. I go to work as a nurse at Bayside Medical Center at 6am and leave work at 1-2pm every weekday though on Saturdays I work 8pm to 5am, I have sundays and Mondays off. I take medication in the morning before I do ANYTHING which helps me remember unless I forget to take it. I do not have a boyfriend. Never have, that I can remember. Last but not least I am an amnesiac, which means that I forget things and suffer from amnesia. I must write this down everyday if I feel myself forgetting but for the past month--I haven't written anything...