Where Am I ?

The stark smell of bleach was overwhelming. It filled the air with a chill, sterile sense of cleanliness that was scouring something rather than cleansing it. The woman on the bed squinted at the bright light that was seeping through her closed eyelids. She felt heavy, and she slowly realized that she could not move her hands, head, or any part of her body.

She tried to blink, feeling increasingly desperate to see her surroundings.

Where am I? As the blinding light slowly became bearable, she moved her eyes from side to side, without moving her head. She was in a hospital.

The room was brightly lit and pristinely clean, yet gloomy. She was lying in a typical hospital bed, with IV and monitors beeping around her. The walls were painted a sickly green color, and the dull grey linens were nauseating. The place looked nothing like a room suited to encourage a patient's recovery. If anything, it was making her even more nauseous.

She couldn't remember how she got here, but she was certain that she wanted to get out as soon as possible. Preferably right now. Her body had regained a little strength as she had come to her senses, and the desire to leave the room seemed to boost her energy levels instantly.

She pulled on the IV line, which gave her a nasty sting. Pushed herself up, she tried to shuffle out of bed, but felt a full excruciating pain her left leg. She frowned and dug at the tightly tucked layers of linen to uncover her lower body. A large bandage had carefully been placed on her thigh. the white bandage was soaked in her blood.

She paused for a second and took a deep breath. Her hands moved up to her neck. As her hands touched her skin, she remembered; She had been strangled to death by an unknown man.

She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to make sense of what happened. How did she hurt her leg? She had been strangled and lost her consciousness, but the intruder must have spared her life.

What about her child?

Her hands reached down to caress her stomach, where she felt something cold and foreign poking out.

"What is this..." she murmured as she unbuttoned her hospital gown. Her eyes widened when she looked down.

There was a small sparkly piercing on her belly button. She couldn't recall getting one.

"How did this..." she muttered. Her chaotic mind was difficult to align. What was happening to her? Had she gone insane? She had thousands of questions in her head, with no answers to offer any kind of relief. She felt dizzy. The more she tried to think, the more her head throbbed and protested.

Beep! Beep!

The electrocardiogram started a loud, frantic beeping, prompting the door to open abruptly. Several doctors and nurses with widened, worried eyes rushed in. They seemed to panic when they saw Serena clutching her head. A young doctor made his way through the group and took control, swiftly gesturing the nurses to circle the bed and lay the woman down.

"Let me go! Don't touch me! Get away from me!" Serena screamed like a madwoman. The nurses tried to press her down, throwing her back to that traumatic memory of the intruder pushing her onto the table. She kicked and jolted with her free leg in a rage amounting to a frenzy.

One of the nurses saw the fire in her eyes and realized that their efforts were only fanning the flames. She quickly gave the raging woman an anesthesia injection.

Serena stopped struggling as her body began to weaken. She stared at the ceiling as her vision blurred and let out a little moan when darkness came over her once more.

The young doctor started his checking routine on the unconscious Serena. She had drifted into a deep sleep, her stunning features at ease with a serene expression on her face. Nobody would guess that she was about to kill a nurse only moments ago.

The young doctor was rather intrigued by Serena's reaction.

"Director Miller, her family is waiting outside. They are asking for you." a nurse curtly said to the young doctor who was examining Serena.

                                                                          ***

"Dad, calm down. She has just fractured her leg. She'll be fine. Didn't you listen to the doctor?"

A tall, muscular man held his father's shoulders in an attempt to comfort him.

"How can I calm down, you fool? She broke her leg!" The middle-aged man with grey hair wiped an angry tear off his cheek as he continued: "Don't you know how vital her legs are to her?"

The muscular man pursed his lips. His father was right. He cringed at the thought of Serena's reaction when she'd wake up. A broken leg would be an awful inconvenience for most people, but it was an absolute disaster for her. Her body was her work.

"Don't worry, dad, she'll recover," the man attempted again as his father uncomfortably wiped at his tears. The stern, ruthless Benjamin wasn't usually seen crying.

As soon as director Miller entered the hallway, old Benjamin pushed his son to the side and stood up. The muscular man's jaw dropped. He has been comforting his old man for hours and got pushed away like nothing more than a bothersome pest. He shook his head in disbelief and got up to join his dad and the doctor.

"Doctor, my daughter... How is she? What about her le-" old Benjamin got cut off when a guard barged into the VIP ward, covered in sweat and out of breath. He'd rushed to get here.

"Director, the media is pressing us with a million questions about the miss… they say they won't leave without an update on her condition. Numerous fans are also gathered out front. We need more security, or I'm afraid we won't be able to stop them." the guard said without taking a moment to catch his breath.

Before the director could answer him, old Benjamin said:

"Alex, call our men and tell them to get rid of those ignorant, disrespectful reporters," Benjamin sneered. The vein on his forehead was steadily pounding into an incredible size.

The muscular man, or rather Alex, saluted his father and yelled "Yes boss!" after which he fled the scene like a rabbit. With his father that angry, he wanted to be anywhere other than around him.

Director Miller cleared his throat to get Benjamin's attention, who was cracking his knuckles and seething with anger.

"Ehm... Mr. Benjamin, we need to talk about Miss Sasha's condition. Come and see me in my office in fifteen minutes," said Miller monotonously and walked off without waiting for Benjamin's reply.

"Wha-" Benjamin couldn't even complete his sentence and punched his palm in annoyance. He was already agitated, and this impolite doctor was only adding to his nerves. If it wasn't for his daughter, he would have smashed that arrogant young doctor's skull in right then and there. Benjamin turned around and sat back down on the bench outside the room, stewing in his violent thoughts.

                                                                          ***

Director Miller pushed the door of his office open with his elbow, clutching his forehead. He looked frustrated with his brows tightly knotted up and his lips drawn in a tense, pale line.

His assistant quietly came up behind him. Seeing his boss' grim expression, he gulped heavily and pushed his spectacles back onto his nose bridge. Any moment now, his boss would lose his temper.

Miller took his lab coat off and threw it on the couch on his way to the desk. He was about to sit on his leather chair when he suddenly slammed his fist on the solid oak desk.

BAM.

His assistant flinched. He held his breath as he recalled the past few day's events. He couldn't think of anything unusual that would have triggered his boss's recent fits of anger. Was it because of Miss Sasha? No, it can't be, it wasn't the first time he'd dealt with a frustrating patient.

Then why this rage?

He hadn't quite figured out the fist slamming yet when Miller went on to shock him again. His boss was facing the large window that looked out onto the grey, misty weather, holding a lit cigarette. His assistant had never seen him smoke before. What the hell was happening?

Miller's phone broke the silence. He flicked the half-finished cigarette into the bin and took his top-of-the-line, advanced Smartphone out of his pocket.

A hopeful glint flashed across his eyes as he accepted the call and immediately demanded:

"Did you find him?" He sounded impatient.

No reply from the other end. Miller knew what that meant. He gritted his teeth and threw his valuable phone across the room.

His assistant moved just in time to save his nose from a painful collision. He felt genuinely scared. Never had he seen his boss this impatient or angry. Looking at the sorry pile of chips and metal in the corner, he pitied the broken phone who had become the subject of his boss' rage.

"B-boss-" he bravely uttered, awkwardly gathering his courage to speak. But he swallowed his words when he met his boss's glaring eyes. Whatever he had wanted to say was long gone, and he ran out of the room with his tail between his legs.

Miller clicked his tongue in annoyance at his assistant's cowardly reaction and sunk into his leather chair with his face facing the ceiling. He didn't have to hide the turmoil he was going through when alone in his office. He hadn't slept for two full days, and his heavy eyelids were threatening to close.

"Jasper… Where the hell are you," he whispered as he drifted into a restless sleep, forgetting that he was supposed to meet someone in fifteen minutes.

***