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He leans forward on his chair, his interest peaking, "So, then what happened after that?"
"The next thing I knew, I woke up in a hospital."
Before I even opened my eyes, I knew where I was, from the repeating beeping noise in the background; I'm in a hospital.
The pain in my head causes me to inhale sharply, blinking my eyes open slowly to get myself used to the white light. I'm alone, is the second thing I discovered when finally glancing around the room, I have this room all to myself. Plain white walls surround me, some decorated with posters detailing how to wash your hands, all highlighted through the cracks of the closed blinds.
I furrowed my brows, what was the last thing I remember? I'm not sure. Let's see... I was at work, taking a quick smoking break and I had been texting my friend, Harry. Then after that, two people walked past me and...
After that, I draw a blank.
"Do you think you were blocking out the trauma you went through?"
I shake my head, "partly? I mean, as time went on the more the memory came back to me."
My heartbeat jumps sporadically in my chest, the beeping amplified. Just at the simple thought of not remembering how or why I'm in the hospital. A million questions fly through my head as I panic, making me sit up right on the bed and want to walk right out of this room in search of answers; but as I begin to feel a pull on my hand I stop. Glancing towards the pain, I find that there is an IV; the urge to pull this fucking thing out of my hand-
I know I can't, that this vampire-like tooth is giving medicine and helping me.
Looking around the room, I find unoccupied chairs but a table with a coffee cup resting on top of it. Someone was here recently and I find little comfort in that. The fact that I've not been alone this entire time I've been admitted into this hospital room is... soothing. Waking up with no one here, however, is the complete opposite.
I breathe deeply, deciding that staring at the ceiling is probably the best option to do; whilst waiting for someone to walk in through the door. My fingers tap against the top of my hand, skimming the IV, while I wait, and it isn't long until that door opens.
"...couldn't really tell what happened at the scene of the crime, we'd like to question her."
"Not right now," it's dad, he sounds stressed and tired, "she isn't even awake yet."
"Will you alert us-"
"Absolutely not, I'm not having you bombard her the second that she wakes up."
I smile at his stubbornness, still staring at the ceiling and counting each tile; in case the police were glancing in the gap of the door to see if I was awake. How I could talk to these officers, with little to know memory, was beyond me.
