Thread: Healing a Killer (Radioboxes & Swordsman18)

His head was spinning and he had the worse headache he had ever had in his life. All of this made it so that he did not even want to open his eyes. Yet, considering he had no memory of...anything he was going to need at least see his environment to get some idea of where he was. There was a slight flickering of light as he opened his eyes to see a white ceiling above him, with a ceiling fan that was blowing on him at one of the lower settings. The blades were making a light swishing sound as they passed above him. He was not sure what to make of the black ceiling fan, but he had this feeling that this was the first time he had seen it. Though since it seemed he had nothing to go off of, he could not be entirely sure. He turned over to the side to see the light green comforter that was on this bed and how it was kind of fluffy and comfortable. So at least the bed he was on was provided by someone who cared. Speaking of care, he was wondering what was up with his head. His hand reached up to his head and then felt the bandage that was there wrapping it. Normally he would have been able to feel it without having to actually touch it, but all of the blinding pain that was all focused up there was enough to throw him off the ability to feel other things. And from the way he was feeling his fingers run along the bandage as delicately as he could make them, he could tell that whoever had done his bandage had done it professionally. This was no beginner's work. Had he been to a hospital? Why had he been hurt in the first place? What was this place? Was it his home? Were there other people here with him? These were all questions that were going to need to be asked as soon as possible before he could even dare to pose the question he was still hoping would just come to him but was still refusing to. Who was he? That was the question he did not want to ask. It was so basic and core to every person that was answered by all of their accumulated experience, but at the moment, he had no idea how he was knocked out, let alone anything before that. Without those experiences to define him, he was without any clarification of who he was. And thus he could only go off his questions. He sat up on the bed, looking at the room around him. It was a simple place with just this four posted bed in the center, a closet off to the right side of the bed, and lots of space where the green carpet shown through. He could not say that he did not like how the green of the carpet went with the white walls, but he was not exactly loving the way it looked to him. But just because he did not like the color that was not ruling out that this was his home. He moved off of the comfy bed and onto the floor that was not exactly the softest floor but it was not all too hard either, it was kind of like the feeling of a throw rug under his feet. One of the not so cheap kind. The man was walking over to the left side of the room where the door was, his steps were as steady as he could make them since the headache was making it a bit difficult to walk or think. His steady fingers reached for the doorknob, as he then proceeded grabbing it and then twisting it. The hammer in the door released. He pulled the door open to look out into the house. Hello? he called out, not sure if he was going to get a response, though he hoped he did get one. Maybe if someone responded they would get him some of the knowledge of what exactly what was going on with him.