Mountain Dew Slushies

.~*2*~.

"Good, you're finally awake. Do you remember your name?"

He blinked. He looked around to find himself in what appeared to be a hospital bed, with a man in a lab coat holding a tablet sitting in front of him.

"I-I don't..." He said, confused. How could he forget his own name?

"I see... What is the last thing you remember?" The man asked in a calm voice.

He closed his eyes and tried to bring up the last thing he remembered. He came up blank.

"You don't have to force yourself if you don't remember." The man gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm Dr. Winslow Brown."

"Where the hell am I?" He asked Dr. Brown.

"You're at the Two River hospital in New Jersey." Dr. Brown said. "You were driving your car when something went wrong with the engine and it blew up. Luckily for you, it wasn't fatal, and we were able to heal all your injuries. However, it seems that you have memory loss from the brain damage."

He frowned. "Who the hell am I then? How long have I been here?"

Dr. Brown pressed his lips together. "Your name is James Davidson. You've been here for about a month now. We weren't able to find any immediate family or friends to contact. Unfortunately, I couldn't find anything related to your past life, except for the fact that you might have been a construction worker."

"James Davidson." He said, trying out the name.

Something wasn't right.

"I'm sure this must all be very confusing for you." Dr. Brown said. "I'll give you some time to rest. In the meantime, feel free to watch TV."

Dr. Brown left the room. Turning on the TV, "James" had found an entire library of movies and shows to watch, but found nothing interesting.

He tried standing up. He felt a little sore, but he was able to do it. Looking at himself, he saw the outline of several scars and burn marks all over his skin. Besides the door that was the exit, another door led to a small bathroom with a complete set of clothes. The clothes were nothing more than a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a white shirt. He changed clothes and sat back down on the bed, trying to sort this mess. Everything pertaining to academic and practical knowledge was still there, but memories were blurred and his head ached as he tried to remember.

"Your name is James Davidson. You've been here for about a month now. We weren't able to find any immediate family or friends to contact."

He tried to recall any significant names that he knew, anything that could help him figure out what was going on, but still came up blank.

That can't be it. I can't just remember nothing.

"Your name is James Davidson."

James Davidson. James D. J.D.

J.D.

For some reason, he felt more comfortable using the initials then his own name.

The room quickly bored him, and he was considering going out the door.

Maybe he'll find some actual answers.

He gently opened the door and peeped through. The door opened up to a mostly empty hallway. No one was there. Sneaking out, J.D. gently closed the door, not making a sound. There were apparently other rooms further down the hallway.

He found the next few doors to be locked. One was the entrance to a broom closet. Some of the rooms had windows, where J.D. could see containers ranging from tiny vials to huge bottles containing some sort of liquid. Others had very complex gadgets that J.D. hadn't seen before.