_Beep, Beep, Beep._

The raking sound of a machine awakens me after what must’ve been a long.. Long slumber. The air is bitter and cold, my brown eyes feel like if I close them, they won’t open again, a rough cough leaves my lips causing me to recoil subtly.

Sweat lines my forehead and armpits, the sides of my long black hair sticking to my face as I sit up in the spacious bed; only then do I become aware of the fact that I’m surrounded by machines. Machines reading how fast my heart beats, my blood pressure level, the rate of my breathing.

Despite the clear state of my body I swiftly will myself to open my eyes further, taking a look around and instantly it’s clear that my surroundings don’t match my sickly mood: A candlelit chandelier hangs above my head, brown sheets the color of chocolate milk lined beneath my back, outside the window sunlight shines bright over a visibly large lawn decorated with fountains and beds of colorful flowers. Wherever I was, it was beautiful. Beautiful and expensive. The problem? I had _no_ idea where I was.

Before I could ponder my confusion any further someone busts through the door, a tall woman with dark-brown hair tied up in a messy ponytail, bags under her eyes, she’s wearing a long black robe creased with small jewels placed in perfect order on it. She was most likely_ _the owner of this house and she’s smiling — grinning at me, tears brimming her eyes.

“You… oh my god…” “Jack, your awake.”

_Am I Jack? I don’t think my name is Jack._

She seems lost for words, rushing up to the side of the bed, clasping my hand in between hers.

“How are you feeling?”

The woman follows up, smiling down at me.. The answer to her question would have been “terrible” had It been for the fact that I have a hundred more, much more important questions: **Where am I? Who are you? How did I get here?**

Although, I don’t know why it feels like a pit forms in my stomach every time I think about opening my mouth to interrogate to her. The woman wasn’t that intimidating but something inside told me to respect her, that I needed to respect her. It _did_ seem like she was taking care of me for.. however long I’d been here I clear my throat.

“Who are you?”

I say squinting my eyes in mild suspicion but mostly curiosity. Her expression becomes unreadable, her happy smile turning into the shape of a small O, the tears linger on her face but they don’t look like happy ones anymore. Whoever this lady was, my lack of not knowing her was clearly shocking. . .