Someone to help

Allison’s POV

I woke up to blinding rays of the sun diffracting through the window panes onto my closed eyes.

Groaning, I squeezed my eyes open just as a wave of antiseptic smell filled my nostrils, causing me to sit up with a start.

It was then I realized that I was in the hospital, lying on a hospital bed, with a IV drip attached to my wrist.

“What happened?” I asked rhetorically, my throat awfully dry and sore.

It felt painful to speak, swallow or do anything related to opening my mouth, so I just settled on looking around me, trying to remember how I managed to end up here.

As I massaged the throbbing blood vessels at my temples, recollection struck me, and I instantly remembered everything–ranging from how Dr Swan had called me, to how she had given me the news of my mother's death.

“No,” I croaked, trying to rip the cannula off my wrist. “This can't be.”

A knock came on the door then but I ignored it. Moments later, Dr Owen walked in with another doctor, who was clutching a note