So I had started a Walking Dead fic, scrapped the idea and felt like this story would be stronger. So here's the first chapter!

I was aware of three things immediately. First, my head hurt. I wasn't sure why, but just simply trying to sit up was agonizing; my head felt ready to burst at any moment and there was white swirling in my vision with each movement. I steadied myself and noticed secondly that I must have been in a hospital, and that I was currently laying in a hospital bed. Third, there were no lights on in the room. Not even the heart monitor was running.

Looking down at my right arm I saw an IV needle stuck just under my skin, but when I glanced up to the bag it was connected to, it was empty. Dry as a bone. It must not have been changed for quite a while.

The curtains on the window next to my bed had been left open, allowing the sunlight to illuminate the room. It looked to be about midmorning or early afternoon judging by the amount of light pouring in. It was the only source of light in the room, too.

Turning my head to the left, as painful as it was, I spotted a small table. On it was a TV remote, some now dead flowers, an empty glass, and one of those buttons to use to call a nurse. Slowly I reached out to grab the call button remote, my arm feeling heavy. I accidentally knocked the empty glass off the table in my effort, and the moment it tumbled to the floor and let out a clank I realized just how quiet the hospital was. I didn't hear anyone talking or running about, no machines working or TVs blaring. Just silence.

I pushed the big red button. No light came on to show that it'd worked, so I pushed it again. Nothing.

"Nurse!" I tried calling out, my voice hoarse.

Silence.

"Nurse!" I tried again, more urgent, trying to make my voice carry.

When I received no response, I became worried and then frustrated. Where was everyone?

Fervently I began smashing my finger down on the call button, over and over, but the outcome remained the same. Nothing happened. I threw the little remote out of my hand, panic now mixing with my frustration.

I shut my eyes tightly, trying to think. I needed to remember why I was here and figure out what was going on.

First question: How did I end up in the hospital?

I racked my brain for the answer. Car accident? A bad fall? A brawl? But my mind was blank. I had no idea what had happened to put me in here.

I attempted to run a hand through my hair in aggravation, but stopped when my fingers met with a bandage on my head. A spot on my forehead stung at my touch, but my head was feeling better than it had a few minutes ago. The swirling white in my vision seemed to have dissipated for now. Glancing down at my body, I noticed no other serious injuries besides some bruises that seemed mostly healed. How long had I been here?

Second Question: What the hell was going on here?

No doctors or nurses? The entire hospital was quiet. No one was answering calls or changing out my IV drip. The power wasn't even running the machines next to my bed.

I grabbed the remote and tried to turn on the TV. That didn't work either.

I sighed and tossed the remote to the end of my bed before glancing back down at the IV in my arm. I felt my skin crawl when I thought about the needle. I hated needles. For a moment I thought I could actually feel it under my skin and a shiver ran up my spine. I needed to take it out of my arm. Being hooked up to an IV drip wasn't going to make moving around very easy.

I bit my bottom lip and peeled the adhesive tape keeping the needle in place off with my left hand. Once that was off, I grabbed the base of the needle where it was sticking out, turned my head, and pulled it out. When I glanced back at it in my hand, seeing how long it was, my stomach turned and I threw it to the floor.

Hesitantly, I sat upright in the bed. While my head was feeling better, I still felt a little nauseous at the movement. Trying to take each movement slow, I eventually managed to lower my legs off the bed and placed them onto the floor. I stood up cautiously, keeping a hand on the mattress to balance myself. With deliberate steps I managed to make my way to the opened window.

Third Question: What the ever-living-fuck?

My jaw dropped at the sight that lay before me. The street was littered with vehicles, some looked as if they'd been in accidents with each other. Some had doors and windows wide open. Some weren't even on the right side of the road. All of them though were empty, or so it looked from where I was. Upon closer inspection, I thought I spotted people in a few, but they weren't moving. Nausea hit me when I started eyeing the sidewalk. There were dead bodies scattered here and there.

I pushed myself away from the window, my stomach threatening to spill at the sight, though I was sure I had nothing to throw up.

What had I woken up to?

I felt myself begin to panic suddenly. My chest started to tighten and I felt like I couldn't breathe. My right hand instinctively reached up and gripped at my throat, clawing at it as I sank to the floor. I was hyperventilating now and there was a sharp pain by my heart. Tears started to pour down my face and I wept silently between gasps of air.

It took me a few minutes to finally stop crying and calm down, I knew if I didn't that I'd end up passing out. And who knew what'd happen to me then.

I wiped away the tears from my face and took in a few deep, shaky breaths, trying to regain my composure. I needed to deal with one thing at a time.

From my spot on the floor across from the bed I'd woken up in, I spotted a medical chart attached to the end of the bed. I slowly scooted my way towards it, pulling it off and holding it towards the window light.

The name on the chart read 'Isabell Larter'.

I paused and glanced at the ceiling, frustration returning. I didn't recognize the name. Was it mine?

Shutting my eyes tightly, I tried to think. What was my name? But my mind was still blank. Furiously I ran a hand down my face.

I didn't even know who I was.

Holding back another fit of hysterics, I opened my eyes and continued reading the chart. Apparently Isabell Larter had had a car accident, which was not detailed, and had suffered a serious concussion in the crash. She had been in a coma for a while. Near two months. Nothing else on the chart made any sense to me.

I placed the chart back and got up, making my way over to the table with the dead flowers. I spotted a little note attached and grabbed it.

Izzy,

I miss you. Please wake up.

S

S? I tried to think if that letter meant anything to me. A name of someone, a sibling? A boyfriend maybe? I came up with nothing and ended up tossing the note down onto the table.

I was quickly coming to the conclusion that I was Isabell, Izzy, but I had no clue who that was.

I took a moment to sit back on the bed and closed my eyes. I tried to remember anything at all, but I just kept drawing a blank. When I opened my eyes again, I spotted a little duffle bag peeking out from beside the little bedside table. I got up and grabbed it. It felt nearly empty.

Inside the bag was a change of clothing—a pair of jeans, some fashionable looking combat boots, a white tank top, a gray short-sleeved shirt that looked like it'd be a little baggy, a couple black bras and a few pairs of underwear. A note inside with the same writing as the one on the dead flowers read: Figured you'd hate the hospital clothes when you woke up. For some reason that made me smile.

Wasting no time I quickly stripped out of the hospital gown and pulled on new undergarments, not sure the last time the ones I'd been wearing had been changed. I threw on the jeans and both shirts as well before eyeing the duffle bag again. In my rush to change I hadn't noticed the bag of pretzels and package of Reese's, which I figured would be melted by now.

A post-it note was on the pretzel bag. I know you hate hospital food.

I really liked whoever this S was.