[Completed] Amira is a human who finds herself thrust into a world she doesn't know. Once she wakes up in the strange town of Woling, she has to fight to regain the memories of the evils she committed in order to keep her past from destroying everyt...
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The moment my eyes opened, bright white light bombarded them from every angle imaginable. It made me want to be knocked unconscious again. My teeth clenched hard and I squinted up at the blank ceiling above me.
Where the actual fuck was I?
The Doc, the one who seemed to recognize me before everything went dark was off to my side hanging an IV bag from the corner of my bed.
"It's been three days."
I lulled my head further to the side to watch his busy little movements. Now that I was really awake and fully – mostly – aware of my surroundings, I found that I had hoped to die.
That's a weird, if not entirely alarming, thought. Closing your eyes and wishing upon the fates to die. Why would I want that? I couldn't remember anything that I wanted to forget, let alone die over.
"No, no don't sit–" His voice was the kind that was easy to tune out, so I sat up anyway. It was a decision that I pretty much instantly regretted until the nausea that stalled my movements passed a few moments later.
The room warped and wobbled as I swiveled my head around slow enough to not trigger any sick feelings in my stomach nor make my bones ache even more than they already did. It seemed like the normal kind of room. The kind of normal that you would expect from a strangers fancy little house.
Doc let out an exasperated sigh as I pulled out the IV from my arm despite his boring voice pleading not to.
"You really don't listen, do you?" I stared at the IV for a moment longer before dropping it to draw my hands in towards the hem of my shirt.
Seeing as I both wouldn't listen and was far to distracted to listen, Doc had given up on giving me advice and instead just tapped his foot with his arms crossed across his chest as I pulled up my shirt to look at the bandages wrapped thick and tight across my torso.
"You were shot twice. Once there – by your ribs. Then there – your stomach," He pointed. "You were lucky the bullets missed anything important, but you did unfortunately suffer a lot of blood loss. I don't typically say I'm a miracle worker, but it is a wonder you are alive."
And yet I sit here in a strangers room and not in a hospital. I may not know or remember much in the way of anything, but I do know for a fact that injured people who should be dead are typically placed in the hospital, not a strangers home.
"Do you want a thank you?" He rolled his eyes and grabbed a clipboard off the desk beside the bed.
"That would be nice actually, thank you."
"Isn't it your job to save people? Isn't not letting someone die just... common curtesy? Something you're bound by oath to do?"
"Aren't you just a little bundle of joy and optimism," he snarked and glared over the clipboard at me. "A match made it heaven," He added with a mutter.
