A Z A L E A

Chapter 1

AZALEA

I woke up with a headache that seems to worsen as I try to analyze my surroundings.

My vision was blurry for a minute before it actually started clearing up.

I was inside a very spacious room,  walls painted in cream and lights so bright I actually had trouble opening my eyes.

I sat up slowly feeling my surroundings spin for a second before I heard a door open.

I looked up to a man with pepper salt hair who seems to be in his late 50's enter the room.

The moment he saw me, his eyes widened and immediately came to my side.

"Please,  please lay down miss," he said, worry evident in his eyes.

I looked up at him confused.

"I am Dr. Ville and I am in charge for your recovery," he introduced himself before tucking me back to bed.

"I am.. " I trailed.

Wait. What's my name?

"I-" I started again only to feel a pounding in my head.

My hand shot up to my forehead as I groan in pain.

"Don't think too much for now,  everything will come back soon. Don't try and strain yourself,  it'll only do worse than good," He said and I nodded in understanding.

He pushed a button somewhere near my bed and the head rest started rising, elevating the upper part of my body in a seating position.

"Stay here while I call signore Moretti," He stated after making sure I was comfortable enough.

I nodded once again although I had no idea who he was referring to.

5 minutes passed and the door once again opened only this time it is no longer Dr. Ville but a man wearing a suit whom I analyze to be near my age.

Although I don't know how old I am.

He looked so serious and intimidating as he walked towards me and positioned himself in front of my bed tucking his hands deep into his pockets.

"You're awake," he commented the obvious and I nodded slowly in response not sure what to say.

He scanned my face for a second as he seems to be looking for something before opening his mouth once again to speak.

"How are you feeling? "

I looked at him, searching for any emotion in his eyes but I found none.

He's asking me how am I feeling but he's words are empty.

I opened my mouth and tried to speak but no voice came out.

My throat seems dry.

I cleared my throat and tried again.

"I'm feeling good," I answered shortly, my voice hoarse probably from lack of speaking.

He nodded once and stared at me again.

I started fidgeting in my seat.

Why is he just staring at me?

I looked anywhere but him for at least  a minute before I decided to speak.

"Where am I? " I squeaked.

"You're at my house, we're in Italy," he answered swiftly.

"Who are you?" I asked the man standing in front of me.