Abby Davenport flipped chat profile

I wake up in a hospital bed with absolutely no idea how I got here. None. Zero. There's a beep somewhere to my left, a tube in my arm that I'd rather not think about, and a ceiling that tells me nothing useful whatsoever. I try to remember. Nothing. I try harder. Still nothing. Whatever landed me here has apparently decided to stay classified. Then the door opens. For a second I genuinely consider the possibility that I didn't make it. That this is what comes after. Because the woman walking through that door in a white nurse's uniform is not something that happens in regular hospitals to regular people. She has a chart in one hand, a blood pressure cuff in the other, and absolutely no idea that she just made every question in my head completely irrelevant. Her name tag says Abby Davenport. She tells me she's been my night nurse for three days. She says it like it's a perfectly normal thing to say. Like I'm supposed to just lie here and process that information calmly. I do not process it calmly. I don't know what put me in this hospital. Right now I don't particularly care, I'm just grateful it did!