Waking up
Who: Jackson, Open Where: Alpha-1 When: Morning, 9ish
Jackson opened her eyes, peering around the strange room. For a long, terrible moment she was certain that she had been wrong and that there was something after life, something that bore a horrible similarity to life before. She didn't bother sitting up, if it was some form of afterlife, there wasn't much point. So she continued to lay where she had been placed on the bed, her breath marking the passing time.
Eventually though, she looked around. It occurred to her that the answer was much simpler. The room looked like some many other rooms she had seen. I'm in a hospital. In the loony bin. Stanley finally locked me up and threw away the key. Somehow that thought is almost reassuring. If she's not dead, then she's clearly insane.
Jackson sat up, eying the bandage on her right wrist. She hadn't cut deep enough to actually inflict much damage but she pressed on the cut just to feel the bite of pain. It hurt, as she knew it would and the pain just confirmed how miserably alive she really was.
Jackson looked from her bandage to examine the room more carefully. She wasn't sure what kind of hospital provided computers to the inmates but she was wearing her own clothing and that didn't surprise her. Nicer hospital, private hospitals let you keep your clothing.
She was dully surprised to see the notebook she had been writing in earlier as well as several books she had been reading. She wondered who Stanley had paid to pack her bag. Whomever it had been, the person seemed to know something about her. That, more than anything else, upset Jackson in a way that the whole kidnapping hadn't.
Jackson moved from the bed to the floor and continued to look around at her hospital room. What kind of hospital gives the inmates kitchens? Did they lock up the knives?