Chapter One

When life seems so very simple and set all it takes is one email to mess it up. That is what happened to Basil Adair.

CHAPTER ONE

It was in that place that only belongs to evil, even in her subconscious; she knew this is where she lay. It was the snap she felt the instant that her head made contact with the wall behind her, she could not differentiate where she was and what was happening. It was the feel of the now familiar leather being strapped onto her limbs that caused the queasiness to roll through her stomach, into her throat. "No." she thought as she swallowed the pungent taste down again, breathing through the tape he had placed over her mouth. She was well aware now of what was coming next.  “Come here, b***h!"

*****

The lingering reminisces of the words echo through the room, as Jane clamps the sides of her head with her fists, quieting the flash of thoughts racing. The wretchedness of the nightmare lingers just outside of her reality, in a darkness she was not sure she wanted to enter. Eyes rolling back, she turned just in time to miss heaving the contents of her stomach onto herself. One last look around the room and she fell back in to her darkened agony.

Pitching her body in an effort to save what was left of her, Jane became aware of the dampness surrounding her, not understanding what the meaning was; she sought out through the darkness, to find her nurse standing in the doorway, looking puzzled. It was in the mere presence of another face that she was able to lock onto that calmed the rolling fear throughout her body; shivering, she continued to stare at the man in the room.

"Meu caro. You look terrified." The nurse moved from the door, "What comes from these dreams of yours?"

Jane stares at this man, half afraid, somewhat curious. She wondered if she could tell him of these dreams.

Waving her hand absently, "It’s nothing." She observes him as he moves around the bed to fill her water; the sound of the water soothes her nerves, she passes the dream off as just that �" a dream. "Excuse me?" Jane looks up at Cesar through half closed eyes.

"Yes?" He looks back over his shoulder at Jane, anticipating more about the dream she will not acknowledge.

"I seem to have - well," half embarrassed pointing to the sweat soaked sheets beneath her, "well, could I please get fresh ones?"  Jane asks in a muffled voice.

"Certainly, Meu caro." Setting her water down, detecting a wave of uncertainty from her. "Are you sure you are alright? Is there something I can do for you?"

Moving a hand across her damp hair, Jane looks tentatively at him, her mouth lopsided from the swollen tissue, “I am good. Just the fresh sheets.”

She continues staring, with her expressionless face, almost haunted, is what Cesar realizes as he quickly looks away.

 “Maybe a wheelchair?” she hesitates, “I could sit for a while."

“Yes, get out and ease yourself into the place.” He nods, and moves toward the door.

Doctor Hutchinson stands outside the door, assessing his patient as he observes the exchange between her and the nurse. There was a time not long ago that he was afraid his patient wasn’t going to pull through, and he admired her resilience to come as far as she had to date.

That night in the emergency room he was troubled by her status, concerned that he may lose her at that point; she was barely conscious and badly beaten, bruised beyond recognition. No one, including himself, had expected her to live. She’s in relatively good spirits, he silently comments, entering her room.

"Nice to see you are ready to move around. I am your doctor, Dr. Hutchinson." He examines her pupils and facial coloring as he talks with her. Noting the unusual clamminess to her body. He makes mental note of this and her responsiveness, deciding to leave the matter at bay, for a while.  He watches closely as she observes him examining her.  "Dr. Hut . . ." Jane’s words die by the interruption of the nurse entering her room with a wheelchair. Jane huddles toward the back of her bed; a billion questions on her mind, and not sure how to proceed. Of course, Dr. Hutchinson could understand her wanting to know who she is or even where she is, right?

She decided then, at that moment she had to know, had to start somewhere, and her doctor seemed the logical place to begin. Looking up over to where her doctor now stood, she cleared her throat, "Dr. Hutchinson?” Her voice propelled, startling her. The authority that came from the annunciation of the doctor’s name was energetic, causing Jane to remain silent for a moment. She looked up at the doctor again, “I - I am a little confused."  She stuttered this time; following him with her eyes as he approaches her.

"Confused?" He reiterates, standing closer to her, half bending over her, half sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Yes, confused." Looking up, a little shy and somewhat embarrassed again, "Where am I?” she glances around, noticing the obvious, “Who am I?" Clasping her hands to her chest, crossing them in prayer form to her lap.

Doctor Hutchinson knew that she would ask, he just didn’t think it would be so soon. Reaching for her hands, he embraces them, softly.

"You’re in St. Francis Hospital, brought into the ER earlier this month." He begins to explain. "Your name, for now, is Jane.” He watches her eyes for a hint of something.  “You have spent most of this month in a coma.” Still considering the delicateness of the situation, he continues, “This is the first day you have been awake and fully alert.” Hesitating, waiting for more questions. Seeing that she was still catching up with her emotions, he stands, patting her hands, “Now you get some rest and I will be back to check on you later."

As Doctor Hutchinson leaves the room, Jane sits and thinks of what he has just told her which really didn’t seem to be much. Who am I? Do I have children? Am I married?  All these questions still consuming her waken state. She feels afraid and very lonely for she cannot remember a thing; her entire person evaporated, and nothing left to her but a blank slate.  She is aware of only this hospital room and a certainty that her doctor knows more about her than she does.

**********

Back in his office, Doctor Hutchinson feels frustrated over the condition of his patient: the actuality that Jane doesn’t even remember her own name. How could he tell her about how she had been brought to St. Francis without disrupting her healing? He knew very little about the mental break that could be caused from amnesia, brought on from pushing to remember. But he was afraid for his patient, for she couldn’t even remember her life before today?  Reaching for his rolodex, he finds the name of the hospital psychiatrist with his mind still on the haunted ghosts of his patient. She was a well-known woman in her community. What had happened to her? Why would someone be so cruel? What did she know that could cause someone to want her dead?