>Disclaimer: http://pastebin.com/QMSrsbjvYou're at the hospital, at the psych ward. You stared at the bland, heavily peeling walls of your dirty room. They didn't seem to have much of a budget around here.
You shifted and turned up to sit on your bed, and you noticed a small transparent bottle with pills inside. A label had been printed on it.
"Amnesia and Schizophrenia. Identity issues." was the first you noticed on it, along a bunch of chemical names and icons.
A heavy sigh flowed from your mouth.
Your mind was still hazy, except for your more recent memories. Clearly, you could recall how nobody would believe that you were "Malcolm King". A young self-employed man, who dropped out of his IT degree. That was you, right? Your memories were hazy, but you were convinced that this was you.
From the last days, men forcing you to the ward, the trash-flavored meals and the snarky nurses - it was all crisp in your mind. However, anything before this latest week seemed to be covered in mist.
For some reason, everyone thought that you were someone else. Your ID card, government registries and your medical records all had a different name on them as well. Someone you where completely unfamiliar with.
You figured that if you were ever to leave this darned place, you would have to convince the people here that you were "cured", somehow.
Ah... Who were you "supposed" to be, again?
>Name>Occupation>Age 