"I don't... I don't remember what happened." You mumble in answer, your brow furrowing as you try to remember what happened to you. You had an inkling... something... you remembered something.
You remember madness, you remember screaming, but its all a jumble, seen from many eyes, many points of view and all so terribly, terribly confusing. Blood seeping from walls, eyes in the dark, the sound of scissors, the sky - alive with bright red butterflies - a child, clutching their knees and rocking back and forth, mumbling to themselves and clutchinga stuffed toy elephant that trumpets and raises its trunk as you look at it.
You remember soldiers, you remember being grabbed, pulled, taken as the world melted away around you into insanity, into colour and light and sound and that's all you remember until you woke up here, nothing before, nothing since, until now.
You shake it off and repeat yourself, lying because telling the truth would probably make you sound insane.
"No, I really don't, I don't remember a thing."
"Ah well." Comments the Doctor. "That's not so surprising, there's a hell of a lot of mental trauma going around."
The military man seems a little less willing to let it go but rather than press his plummy accent asks something else of you.
"Now that you're up and about you need to come with me. We have things to ask of you while we make sense of this whole situation."
What will you do?
Go with him.
Refuse to go.
Grab the doctor as a hostage to get out of here.
Demand to be told what's going on, right now.
Ask to be allowed to leave.