I Don't Belong Here

How It All Started Part 2

I awoke in a hospital bed. My head was throbbing, and I can't quite remember... anything. Then it all starts to come back. The blood test, the FBI agents, leaving my parents, yelling at Marshal, falling, and finally, Donald. I realize he was talking to me to stop me from going in a coma. Woops... I think to myself. How was I supposed to know I had a concussion. I just felt tired, and that was the only thing that mattered.

I try to get up. There are restraints on my wrists, keeping me on the bed. Ugh. I forgot. I've got criminal blood. The restraints aren't that strong though, like there only used to stop muscle spasms. Something tells me they anticipated me walking up later than I did. Let's use that to our advantage, shall we? I pull hard on the restraints and they slip. As soon as I hop up off the bed, an alarm goes off. Ugggh. Come on! Several men in suits rush in, but, with guns drawn.

I hold up both my hands like I'm surrendering. "Woah, woah, woah, woah! Chill! I just woke up from a coma and this is what I get?" I ask, hiding the fear.

"We have been ordered to take you into custody as soon as you awoke." said a man.

I stick out both of my arms to them. "You could've just asked nicely..." I reply.

They all look at each other, confused. Then one abruptly takes out handcuffs and clips them on me tightly. "Ouch! You can't loosen them a bit?" I ask. No reply. He just drags me along him. He's going so fast and my head is getting dizzy. I begin tripping on every step I take. The man doesn't even notice. "Wait!" I huff. He ignores me, and practically drags me though the hallway. "I said WAIT!" I shout. He looks back, phased, then gains back his original attitude.

"What?" he shouts demandingly.

"I can barely walk, will you stop dragging me like a sack of flour?" I shout back. He looks at me for just a moment before picking me up and carrying me.

"HEY!" I scream. But the man just keeps running. Well, at least he's not dragging me.

We finally reach a car. I am abruptly placed in it, then locked in. I'm just glad the handcuffs are in fronts of me so I don't have to sit on my hands. I look around the car. There is a man sitting across from me in a suit just like everyone else, but he's not young and muscular. He's old, skinny, and has all white hair.

"Skyler..." he begins.

I cut him off. "Something tells me you're in charge, I want answers, now."