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I woke up to the hospital room, blinking away the tiredness of my eyes

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I woke up to the hospital room, blinking away the tiredness of my eyes. The lights irritated my vision, the simple movements of blinking my eyelids hurt at the moment.

A middle-aged woman walked in with a clipboard in her hand, she wasn't wearing her doctor's coat but the stethoscope hung around her neck like a necklace adorning her outfit.

She noticed that I was awake and walked to me, took my hands, and checked for the pulse instinctively without uttering a single word. A small tug appeared in the corner of her lips when she was satisfied with my pulse rate.

"Do you have an emergency closest family member that we can contact?" She asked, her voice was clear and subtle at the same time.

"No, you can tell me," I replied to her question.

"We have a few procedures," the doctor announced while checking at her clipboard.

"I can sign them, doctor, send me the bills I'll pay it," I stated simply, I couldn't keep calling my mom or Anne to rush here, that would only give Anne another reason why I should return to my childhood house.

"Your bills are all taken care of Ms. Malcolm, we have some other procedures to talk about," she said, not saying who paid my bills.

My mind wandered to the night, I was walking and experiencing a visi- no it can't be, it was most likely the dream that kept haunting me.

My memories wavered after the dream, I wondered if I woke up after it or did someone take me to the hospital? I don't remember anything after the nightmare, I tried to think about that night but the heady black fog covered my image.

"Who paid the bills?" I asked out of curiosity, I didn't have any friends here, did my mom transfer the money? No, it can't be, or that's what I think.

"Sorry Ms. Malcolm it's confidential," she hesitated.

"But I have to at least thank them," I tried to convince the stubborn doctor and asked suddenly "who admitted me here?"

"The same person who paid the bills, Ms. Malcolm, that's the only information I can give you and about the procedure and medications please visit my office before you leave," she asserted in a tone that leaves you no space to inquire more.

"When can I get discharged?" I asked, after the traumatic experience in the hospital room after my friend's death, I started to hate the hospital.

"We have a few tests to run, a nurse will assist you in few minutes and we will let you know about your discharge," she replied and walked away, leaving me with a thousand questions about this stranger.

Who is he or is it a she?

Why do they care?

Did he/she assume I'm a beggar? No, I'm presentable at least.

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