The start of something

I awoke with a start. I felt slightly out of sorts, as though I had been drugged. I saw soft light to my left. I shifted to see if it was a window, and whether it was daylight outside or not. As I shifted, pain exploded in my side and I gave a breathless gasp.
"Shh," said a concerned, softly insistant voice. As my brain registered the words being spoken, my body registered being gently but firmly being pushed back down to my previous position. Which I discovered was in someone's arms. It hit me with a start: I was in someone's arms, in someone's bed, in someone's bedroom. And I had no idea who that person was. I started to struggle and scream, which made my side, again, explode even more painfully than before. The voice again murmured endearing pleadings to be quiet, and to lay still. I finally stopped struggling not because I believed him, but because I was breathless with pain and it was taking all of my energy to just take breaths.
"Where am I?" after a moment of catching my breath. I was very tense, on account of my lying in his (whoever he is) arms.
In a slightly confused voice he answered, "At home. In London." London? What on earth was I doing in London? That wasn't home! Was it? I started to panic. Where was home? Where did I come from? Where did I belong?
"Who are you?" He must have heard the panic in my voice because he slowly, calmly, and quietly replied, "Rebecca, everything's going to be okay."
Rebecca? Who did he think I was? Rebecca was not my name-my name was.... At this point my panic escalated to the point where I didn't care about anything anymore-I had to get out at any cost. I couldn't breathe. I felt claustrophobic. I couldn't see. I couldn't feel. And I didn't care. I blindly thrashed my arms and legs, trying to scream but struggling to catch breath. Through the fog that was clogging my thoughts, I could tell that he was easily overpowering me. I opened my eyes as he held me down on the bed. He let go of me with one hand and reached up-and I knew-I just knew-he was going to hit me. I didn't know where that knowledge came from, but it was truth, I knew. I screamed with all of my power (which wasn't much) and thrust my arms over my face. He gently pulled my arms off of my face and there were tears in his eyes as he placed a cloth over my mouth. I started to struggle again-I could smell the poignant smell of something bad-but to no avail. The cloth was over my nose and mouth and I could no longer hold my breath. I resignedly stopped struggling and breathed in. Whatever it was, let it come.