It was a warm afternoon when I woke up in a hospital bed, with lots of people surrounding me. None of their faces was familiar, and they kept hugging and kissing me while I stared at them blankly. Who were these people?
They were crying, well not all of them but the majority was, and the atmosphere was just sad. I was scared and had no idea what was going on. Why was I here? And what could have possibly happened?
For days, people kept visiting me, asking me questions I had no answer to and calling me "Skye" which I supposed they choosed as my name.
Only a girl in her forties was constantly by my side. She slept next to me every day, and didn't talk much, just tried to joke around with me a couple of times. She was sweet and she seemed like she really loved me for some reason.
Everytime I asked a question about what happened with me or what state I was in, they would all tell me that I'll know everything soon. "Soon" is a very hard time to deal with when you have no idea what's wrong with you and when all of your body aches so much. I was always wondering why I was alone here with no one I really know to help me out.
But I was patient. I mean, I couldn't move from my bed and I could barrly speak, so there's no other choice than laying here just staring at faces of strangers, wondering who the hell they are. But that non-sense of a routine was fucking killing me.
Until that day. That damned day.
