(This is a strange story about a man named Jason Morgan...a strange tale about his journey down "a rabbit's whole" of reality)

GENERAL HOSPITAL ;AM I THE KILLER

"AWAKEN"

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and their was a sharp pain inside of his mind; as if someone had pierced an ice-pick between his eyes.

He was on his back staring up at a light shining back down at him from the ceiling above. The light was, at best, 25watts and was flickering within an alternating dim/dimmer brightness, causing the room around him to be cast with a strange shading effect.

He looked down upon his body and saw that he was laying on a bed, a hospital bed to be exact, clad only in black boxer shorts, with a duffle bag at the end of the bed next to his left leg.

But the most disturbing truth was that he had no idea how he had come to be in a hospital and a hospital bed, and even more disturbing than that was that he had no idea who he was.

What was his name? Carl, Bob, Frank, Andrew; he had no idea. Suddenly it stabbed his mind again; the strange piercing pain in the center of his forehead. He brought his right hand up to his face and felt what he perceived to be a small wound in the middle of his forehead; was it a needle prick?

His suspicion was rewarded when he tilted his head and noticed a syringe needle right beside the pillow his head was resting on.

Someone had attempted to inject him with something, but the slight feel of the wound, and the fact liquid was still in the bowels of the needle caused him to include that something had interrupted the injection process.

His only thought, actually two thoughts, were; how did I get here and why? He looked about the room and saw it was very minimal and sparse.

There was a draped window with a common round table next to it in the corner. He also saw that there was a lamp on the table, and the draw string which had a lone bead at the tip hanging down was swinging back and forth; what had caused such motion? Someone must have been in the room only seconds before he had awakened.

He decided to become more proactive, so he swung his legs over and stood on the side of the bed closest to the table, and furthest from the door.

Now, standing next to the bed, he looked at the duffle bag and saw that it had a label stitched upon it with two initials; J.M.

Were those his initials? Was his name John, Jeffry, Jack or Jed? Was his last name Miller, Maser, Manning or Michaels?

He opened the duffle bag and saw a pair of blue jeans and a shirt, with a pair of socks and shoes at the bottom. Were these his clothes? Did it matter?

As he began to put the clothes on, he began to experience anxiety, and his breaths became shallow with each inhale and exhale.

But what was causing this panic that crept into every inch and fiber of his body, and, his sudden urge to flee? Was his subconscious remembering something that he wasn't?

After sitting on the edge of the bed and putting on the shoes; he prepared to leave this place. But he paused and looked down at the syringe needle next to the pillow on the bed. He thought for a moment and then decided to take it with him.

After placing the syringe in his shirt pocket, he noticed there was a closed closet behind the chair by the table. He moved the chair to the side and opened the closet to find a black leather jacket on a hanger. He put the jacked on, and closed the closet door.

He took four steps toward the room's door. But upon the fifth step he saw something that made him freeze; a trail of blood on the ground. It was coming from the other side of the bed.

He leaned over to looked around the edge of the bed and frowned at what he saw; a dead woman's body, partially dressed in a nurses outfit; alternating between dim and dimmer due to the malfunctioning light on the ceiling.

The blouse beneath her white lab jacket had been torn down the front, exposing her bare breast where several spiral shaped circles had been carved into her dead skin; blood still dripping from the vile wounds which meant they were fresh.

He noticed a knife next to the body, and as panic surged through his veins, he reached down and picked the knife up; had he used this to kill her?

He dropped the knife back down on the floor, and noticed the name tag on the outside of her white blood stained jacket; CARLY SPENCER.

New chapters of this story are coming soon...so if this is your first time reading this, then please go back to chapter #3 (A Hairy Situation) and continue on from there...and follow the escapades of a man trying to find himself

this chapter featured;

Steve Burton as the unnamed man