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“Hello?” Stephanie said hesitantly.
The patient, a diminutive woman in her thirties with porcelain skin, black hair, an arched nose, and a narrow frame, needed a moment to focus her gaze on her. When she did, Stephanie noticed something she hadn't registered until now. The woman’s eyes were brown.
“Where am I?” she asked, her voice dry and hoarse.
“Um, you’re in the hospital,” Stehanie answered cautiously, before moving over to the sink to fill a paper cup with water and a straw. She had never been in a situation exactly like this before and wasn’t sure how best to handle it. Finally, she went with, “how do you feel?”
In response, the woman used her forearms to try to sit up. There was no way that was going to work, but she was able to move them enough to make the handcuff on her left wrist rattle slightly. She glanced down at it in confusion.
“What’s going on?” she rasped.
"Try a sip of this," Stephanie said, holding the straw to the woman's lips.
As the woman sucked up a tiny bit of water, Stephanie tried to think how best to answer.
“What do you remember?” she eventually asked.
“Everything’s fuzzy,” the woman answered slowly. “Why am I in handcuffs? Did I do something? Please help me understand what’s happening.”
“Nurse Fowler, please step away from the patient,” someone said from behind them. Stephanie turned around to find Zeke standing there. His taser was out.
Stephanie did as she was told. The woman looked at Zeke, trying to make sense of his response, then turned to Stephanie again for help. She was at a loss, but Zeke wasn’t.
"It's pretty straightforward," he told the woman, no trace of sympathy in his voice, before turning to Stephanie. "Gladys is on her way. She just had to call the police first. Do you want to tell her, or should I?"
Stephanie didn't want to overwhelm the woman, but there didn't seem to be any easy way to convey the situation without doing so.
“Your name is Ash Pierce,” she said softly. “You’re in the ICU at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. You’ve been here—in a coma—for two months,” she said.
The woman seemed to be struggling to process what she’d heard.
“Why?” she finally asked.
“You were stabbed in the neck,” Stephanie explained. “You almost died.”
“I was stabbed?” the woman asked, seemingly baffled. “Then why am I in handcuffs?”
“Because you’re being held for the murders of at least five people,” Zeke growled at her, “and attempting to kill several others.”
Pierce looked at Zeke, her mouth open in astonishment, then at Stephanie. Her expression slowly turned from shock to one of confusion and fear. When she spoke again, her voice was shaking.
“Why can’t I remember any of that?”
