One More Time

My head felt fuzzy and my vision wavered when I sat up. I winced as the IV pulled at my arm. My mouth was dry and my throat felt parched and cracked. So, maybe I did need a nurse? I had no idea what I needed.

Fellows pressed the call button anyway, signaling for a nurse to come and check on me.

“Miss Haywood, we have some questions for you,” he said, his voice softening. “As soon as you're feeling up to it, I'll need to ask about what happened last night.”

I nodded. “I'll help as much as I can,” I said. “But I can't promise I can give you anything useful. I can't remember what happened or why I was there in the first place.”

“You don't remember anything at all?”

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at me sympathetically, but also with some skepticism in his eyes. I just shook my head, trying to gather my thoughts and failing to do so. My brain was so scattered that it was like trying to catch puffs of a dandelion on a breeze.

“Unfortunately, no,” I replied, my voice quiet.

I furrowed my brow as I tried to recall anything about the night before. What I'd been doing before I'd been hit in the back of the head. I came up empty. I had to admit that walking into a warehouse in the middle of an abandoned area, at two in the morning, was stupid. And well out of character for me. I wasn't a paranoid girl, but times being what they were, I was certainly a cautious and smart girl.

Which begged the question – why had I done it?

“Do you think it might be an obsessed fan of yours?” Fellows pressed.

I shrugged. “I honestly don't know,” I said. “I'm trying to think of something, anything, and I'm just drawing a blank.”

The nurse stepped through the door, a pleasant look on her face – at least until she noticed the cop sitting there grilling me. She shot Fellows a dark look and then moved quickly to my bedside, tending to me and checking my stats before getting me a small cup of water.

“Ms. Haywood needs some rest,” the nurse said, giving the cop a definite side-eye.

“It's okay,” I said. “I want to help. It's just – I can't remember anything but bits and pieces of what happened last night anyway.”

“That isn't surprising, given that you sustained massive trauma to the head,” the nurse said with a sympathetic smile. “But hopefully, everything will come back in time.”

“Hopefully?”

I felt a tingle of worry in my stomach. Hopefully didn't sound good. Not good at all.

“The doctor will be in later to discuss all the details with you,” she said, her voice bright and reassuring.

She turned and walked to the door, leaving me with Officer Fellows who watched her go before turning back to me.

“You're lucky to be alive,” he said.

I remembered the firefighter who'd somehow managed to claw his way through the smoke and flames and had found me there on the floor. Luck had nothing to do with it. I felt like I had a guardian angel.

“Could you give me the name of the fireman who saved me?” I asked.

“Sure, I think I have that info right here actually,” he said.

He pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and flipped through the pages until he found a scrap of paper. He plucked it out of the notebook and held it out to me. Taking it in a trembling hand, I looked at the name that had been scribbled on the small page. It was a name I recognized.

Oliver Miller.

“Figured you might want to thank him once you feel better,” the cop said.

I nodded. “I'm going to get some rest,” I said. “Do you mind giving me a little privacy?”

“I'll wait out in the hall with Officer Lewis,” he said.

He stepped out of the room, leaving me alone. And even though I was tired, I couldn't stop thinking about the man who'd saved me. There was a reason his face looked familiar. And now that I had a name to go along with the face, the memories started flooding back to me.

Memories of how I'd hurt him all those years ago.