Chapter - 1 - Waking up

I'm awake now, I see a chipped paint job on the ceiling, and feel cool sheets covering around my body.
I'm trying to adjust my eyes.
I'm in a room, with a weird machine type thing infront of me on a brown coffee table, there's a sink, and a small closed-in place with a toilet inside.
There are many many books under the coffee table, some of them are thick and some of them are small and thin.
The machine has people inside of it, and little cartoon-type images, and pretty music.
I watch the machine for a long time.
And then a lady with curly brown hair opens the door, with a big grin.
She's wearing a pretty dress with flowers on it and black leather shoes.
She walks up to me and sits on the bed next to my legs, pushing her hair back, and behind her ears.
She begins talking, with a really soft voice.
She sounds happy and kind.
So I smile to her.
She laughs and gives me a silver necklace.
She helps me put it around my neck.
The necklace has a heart shaped locket hanging from it, with small letters and words I don't understand.
The lady pulls the sheets off of my legs, and body.
She holds my hands and pulls me up onto my feet.
We go through hall-ways and corners for a little while, and she finally seems to find a room.
We go in and there are many people with long white jackets on, that are buttoned up all the way.
They look older than me.
They're holding instruments around their necks and in their jacket-pockets.
I'm confused again, I do not know anybody.
The room they were in was big, had lots of chairs and a big table they were all sitting around and looking at me.
I look at the lady, she smiles and points at one of the empty chairs around the table they were sitting at.
So I go sit there.

One of the men sitting close to me gives me his gloved hand.
His glasses glared.
I show him my hands.
He takes one of them and begins examining it with one of the intstruments in his pocket.
He looks confused as he looks at my hands, he feels around my
palm, looks up at me and begins talking.
He presses harder on my palm, It feels like he is poking my hand with a needle, and it
hurts so I yank my hand back.
He rests his elbows on the table and looks over to the lady with curly hair and nods.
She nods back, and leaves the room.

The man looks back at me, and smiles.
He puts up his hand, shoulder-length I don't know why he is doing that.
But he points to my hand.
I look at my hand.
I look at his hand.
I try to make my hand like that, and i put it up next to his.
His hand was a lot bigger than mine.
His were darker, and his fingers were thicker.
All the people around us at the table began writing on paper and looking at my hand.
"Well she's not brain dead like the other patients, she seems to have memory of
some sort, she has wonderful working stimuli, and all of her muscles and movements seem to be functioning correctly.
But she still has a long way to go, Dr. Omar."
A man sitting next to him said.