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[Diana.Daymarova]

Fatigue accompanies a strong sickness. The probability of survival was very low, yet here she lies, alive. Panic grasps her with a look on the measuring devices. She is all good, but seeing all the numbers and graphs without knowing their propper meaning is somehow uncomfortable for her. A failed attempt to sit is made. The head hurts so much that she cannot even move a little.

A doctor comes in. He appears as an old, wise man. He wears glasses as well.

"Good evening, madam."

This voice would calm down an angry cop, whose donut has been stolen. Being a doctor and having a lovely voice at the same time is an advantage. Patients tend to be restless.

"Whatever you did out there was very dangerous. I haven't seen that messy lungs in a long time. Last time I had a worse case. It was a young man, your age I'm guessing, and that was a rather awkward one. Since then I tell my children not to consume food with their nose. Anyways, your lungs are functional, puny signs of poisoning, but your body will handle that."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Oh, it's Cuttingham, Dr.Cuttingham. What about you, madam? How do they call you?

Her heart starts pounding heavily. What is her name? That's an easy question, it can be answered with ease, right? Right? No. In fact she doesn't have a clue about the wey of her getting here. Nor does she remember her family. It feels almost like a rebirth. Her memories were emptied! Knowing this fact, she falls unconscious.

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