Jumbled Memory

Maxsodin sat, her legs crossed. She had forgotten the reason she was running, and stopped after stumbling for the hundredth time. Now she sat.
She had taken the bandage off her hand, and was staring at the jagged scar forming on her palm. She touched it gingerly with a finger.
She winced at the stinging pain.
She wrinkled her nose, realizing that the stench of blood clung to her clothing and skin. She stared at the dark patches on her Organization robe. She drew her hand over them.
Blood... but not her own.
It was odd, she thought, to know you did something bad, terrible even, and not remember. Maxsodin couldn't recall how the bloodstains had gotten there. She only knew they were not of her blood, and that she had caused them to get there.
Murder? No. Torchure? That she couldn't answer.
She stretched her arms, and immediately regretted it as an immense wave of pain jarred through her body.
She rolled up her sleeve. A huge scar where an awful gash once was ran from elbow to past her shoulder. She shuttered. What had happened to her?
Upon further investigation, she found yet another jagged scar running down her left calf. She flinched at the mere sight of it.
She probed at her face and felt a thin scar running from her cheek bone almost down her mouth level. She ran her finger over that scar many times, trying so hard to recall how it had gotten there.
She couldn't recall a thing.
Exhausted by her hasty fleeing and baffled by her new scars, Maxsodin lay down her head and shut her eyes.
It wasn't sleep, not by any stretch. But it allowed her time away from the world that had become so confusing, so complex.