When the world finally comes back into focus, the first thing I notice is the absence of life. I'm lying in a plain white room, that's only occupant is the lone bed that rests under me.
"Where am I?" I murmur.
Strangely, I am not answered.
"Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?" My voice is becoming stuttered and raspy. This can't happen again. The last time that I had a panic attack such as this I was bed ridden for 3 weeks due to my shock.
"Mom! Where are you?" I scream.
Tears are running down my face now. I have no idea why I've been put in this little white prison cell. There's not a single door or window. I didn't harm anyone, and I know I didn't commit a crime.
Suddenly a thought provoking inquiry crosses my mind. I simply cannot recall anything that occurred in the hours leading up to this moment. Possibly in the days prior? How long have I been here? Days? Weeks? Months?
I'm starting to think that I was comatose. My poor lifeless body, rotting a way in a little box until moments ago when it regained life. My mind must of decided it wasn't done living. However, this must have been against , my will? I have no desire to continue this life.
My body is filled with an aching, throbbing, pain. Though the only damage I find on my body is a swelling bump on the back of my head. Did I hit my head? That's the only possible event I could link to the softball resting inches above my neck. Wait, was I mugged? I can't handle the possibilities.
Abruptly, I am taken from my thoughts by the opening of a door. A rectangle has seemingly been cut through the wall to reveal a strange women.
"Good Morning, Nikky."