to be determined [A FORMER WATTPAD FEATURED STORY]

FIVE

I stop thinking altogether because it makes my head hurt more than it's supposed to, and I kind of hate pain.

Above the clock there is a small TV, and it's playing something. It's all blacks, whites, and shades of grey (which confuses me because I think the world should be shown in color). It's filled with people I don't recognize in the slightest, but that's okay because it helps.

Apparently what I'm watching is about a ridiculously naive girl who goes by the name of Lucy and all of her incredibly tolerant friends.

At least that's what the man in the mint scrubs told me.

He also told me his name was Ki today. (He still wants me to call him Dr. Park.)

The woman has a silly laugh, and it makes me fall into a fit of grins, shooting up every so often. She wears clothes that poof at the bottom, and her hair is pulled up into something I've never seen anyone wear in the hospital.

"How are you feeling?"

Dr. Park walks into my room as Lucy "feeds" a block of cheese in hopes that the flight attendant doesn't notice the block of cheese isn't a child.

(I learned that term from the show today: flight attendant.)

"How am I supposed to be feeling?" My throat is still dry, so the words that manage to come out scratch at my throat.

"In less pain than yesterday."

"Then just say that," I say.

"I can't-"

"Just say that."

His dark eyes are lined with thick black eyelashes, and they widen for a moment before laughing.

"Dr. Letterman is supposed to come in to check on your recovery, and I want to make sure that I'm putting down correct information-"

"Just write that down," I say. "I am feeling better, I promise."

"Okay."

He begins to step out of the doors of the white room.

"Has anybody found out who I am yet?" I choke out. Luckily it was before he had sauntered off to his next sick and dying patient.

"No, not yet."

I just nod and press my lips together before placing my head back onto the pillow. I feel thick bandages graze the back of my neck.

"You can go now," I say.

He nods and begins to walk into the room of his next patient. I see his black hair contrast against the color of the walls through my little window to the hallway. I always see the people in the white coats and colored scrubs running.

I guess that that's never really a good thing in a place like this.

I look back at the TV to see the woman and Lucy fighting on the plane. I figure the flight attendant knows it's a block of aged cheddar cheese and not a baby.

So I laugh again.