'Anne', spelled the bold white letters on her name tag, as the man studied.

He started to reach up to his forehead, and his rough fingers touched the texture of gauze cloth. It hurt, very much. Anne eased a pillow behind him and he sat-half comfortably.

"The police sent you yesterday evening, do you remember?"

"Not a single thing." He answered unsteadily.

"That's fine. " Anne handed a glass of water to the man. "Take some rest now and I'm sure you'll recall something soon."

"There was a boy. Where is he?"

"I'm sorry, a boy?"

Anne stared at the folder she had trying to remember if she missed a detail on the patient. Did he come with a boy? The man was still looking up to her for an answer.

Despite the doubtful expressions he's given, he was sure that there was a boy in the passenger seat. Where they were going, he couldn't figure.

Minutes turned to hours and he was still looking out to the window. Soon it was already dark but he hadn't progressed much rather than projecting more questions, one after another. None of these he knew the answer to except one; if he should find a way to escape.

If he had a family it'd be only right for them to show up by his bed now. This boy was the last person he saw, and his only hope to know what happened.

"Find a way out."

He snored.