Head pounding, your memories jumbled, it feels like the worst hangover ever! Groaning, you attempt to sit up. A hand presses down, a comforting voice insisting you remain calm, and allow yourself time to adjust.
You surrender to the voice, the bed is warm, the blankets heavy and tightly tucked in. You don't want to add anything to your discomfort. Your whole body feels... just off.
An electric whine buzzes in your ear, and you feel the bed rise. It's lifting you into a more seated position.
"Would you like a drink of water?" The doctor asked.
It's only then you realise how parched you feel. Nodding, you answer.
A glass of water is held in front of you. "Just sips..." he offers. Your hands still pinned beneath the bedding. He holds and tips the glass. Setting the pace, you eagerly swallow it. It's icy cold, refreshing. The best water you've ever tasted as if it's straight from a mountain stream, crystal clear and blessed.
Smiling gratefully, he withdraws the glass. You could easily finish it off. But, the edge is gone, and the desert no longer so arid.
"I... I... can't..." you finally speak. Cautiously, and unsure. You feel utterly lost.
Again the patting hand reaches for your shoulder a comforting squeeze. "This is all normal, it just takes time to adjust. Don't force it..." his last words a request, a plea for acceptance.
"My name?" You ask. Even that vital piece of information, is vague. Your soft feminine voice, just as soft, just as soothing. But, even that sets off alarm bells inside your head, for some reason.
The doctor sits in the chair beside your bed.
"Okay, what do you remember?" he asks. His voice so soothing.
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