Jack sat up slightly, looking over his girlfriend, his face expressionless. "Are you okay?" he asked. She barely nodded her head. Wake up! She heard again, more aggressive, panicked this time. She distantly felt something grip at her shoulder. She stared at Jack, his face remaining still as it was as if frozen. She blinked, everything-his face and the field-becoming blurry. She closed her eyes incredibly tight, squeezing and scrunching them together. She heard the voice beginning to get louder as if it was closer, but she knew that only Jack was with her.
She opened her eyes, sitting up in a rush, her head suddenly pounding. Her eyes ached as she opened them to an off-white room with such poor lighting it made it seem gray that had the faint odor of milk and bleach mixed all together,stinging her eyes. Repulsed and terrified, she stared wide-eyed around the dimly lit room where bars were on the window and the tile floor was cracked. She gripped the cotton fabric under her, suddenly realizing she was on a bed and in a white gown. She noticed the leather restraints on both sides of the bed, beginning to panic. It seemed as if the bed, a small writing desk in the corner on the opposite side of the room near a couple of chairs and a tall black floor lamp.
"Elisabeth Jane Whitney," a shadow spoke. Elisabeth snapped her head to the other side of the room as if she were a starving animal, her body shaking abruptly. The voice stepped forward to claim a face of a pale, middle-aged man carrying a clipboard with dark hair and an overly exuberant smile that broke through rosy lips when he saw the wrecked girl. "Who are you?" she whispered nearly inaudible. She was sure that the man hadn't heard her, but she was mistaken when he walked to the edge of her bed and sat down and laughed. Elisabeth quickly drew her legs against her chest, wrapping her arms around them. When he didn't reply, she pressed further with her questions, "Where am I?" Then a thought struck her mind all at one like lightning striking the ground.