The sun's shining through the gaps in the curtains, a small fan running in one corner blowing cool air all around the small room, and water drips unto the sink every couple of seconds. On the bed in the corner of this small room, lies a young women. A blanket covers her from her feet to her chest which rises every time she breaths in her sleep. Seeing her peaceful sleeping face, one wouldn't imagine the harshness she have been through just the other night.
Slowly, the long haired girl opens her eyes. Grey ceiling; that's the first thing she sees. Her body feels heavy and her head is aching. She turns her head carefully to see around. Although she can't see quite well after just waking up, she know this is not a place she know. And when her consciousness finally come fully to her, she feels sharp pains on her abdomen and left arm.
Using her right arm as support, she slowly rises her upper body and sit straight. With every movement that involve her chest and stomach, sharp pains strike her. When she finally sitting up right, she moves back to lean to the frame of the bed. She can't believe how painful and tiresome it was only for sitting up. She starts to breath a little heavy, although in short moment she seems able to control it.
When the pains receded, she turns her eyes toward her left arm. It's covered in white bandages and can't be moved freely; not that she wants to move it since it's really hurt to just moves it slightly. It seems there's a long, thin and hard thing inside the bandages that prevents her arm to move freely. A splint. Judging from the treatment and the degree of the pain every time she move her left arm, she's guessing her left arm is broken.
The girl's red ruby colored eyes then notices that she's wearing something unfamiliar to her. It's not her clothes that she wore that night. It's a simple sleeping robe with sky blue color. Underneath is her body wrapped in bandages with some pinkish stains on it. On the floor besides the bed are piles of bandages and cottons, stained red with what seems like blood.
She lifts her face and gazes around the small room; the bed she's on lies in one corner, a small desk fan is sitting in a short table across the bed on which a closed black laptop rested, a sink and stove are occupying the area on the other side of the table with a small fridge standing below the sink, the door that seems to lead to outside lies facing the door. There's also a small door with frosted glass near the sink and stove and a sliding door between the table and the sink. A small curtained windows decorates the wall between the bed and table. The room is small and simple, yet doesn't feel cramped. All of the stuffs are sticking to the sides of the room, giving quite a comfortable space in the middle of the room.
The girl notices her belongings are here in the room. Her big scythe that usually act as proof of identity leaning to the wall and supported by the end of the bed while her now ruined and bloody clothes can be seen hanging out from the sink. Between her wounds, piles of bloody bandages, and her belongings in the room, she suspects that whoever own the room was tending her wound.