Where were you last night?

The Sergeant's words sounded accusatory, as though he already knew the answer and was daring her to lie.

Where had she been last night?  The Sergeant's words echoed over and over in a tunnel of her brain.  She had to force herself to speak.

"I don't know."  She replied in a hoarse whisper.

The Sergeant snorted in disgust.  She knew he didn't believe her.

She was lying on a gurney in what appeared to be a hallway of an emergency room.  How had she gotten here?

She raised her hand to touch her aching forehead and gasp at the sticky feel of blood.  Where had that come from?  Touching her head again, she felt a gauze bandage that had been rapped around it.  Was the blood hers?  If not, where had it come from?

"Look, Miss, I've been up all night.  I'm tired and just want to go home.  Please, just answer the question.  For the umpteenth time, where were you last night?"  Grumbled the aging policeman.

Her mind was a jumble.  Had he asked her this question before?  Had her answer always been the same?  Was he trying to trick her?  It was a simple question, yet for the life of her, she did not know the answer.  She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate.  A blurred vision appeared.  She saw a  neon sign, it was red...no, orange...and it was flashing...no, blinking on and off, like a person with an eye tick.  There were gaps between the neon letters, some of them burned out so the words didn't make sense.

"Miss, Miss, are you sleeping?" Inquired the sergeant, shaking the gurney.

Pain swelled as she slowly opened her eyes and tried to focus on the heavy set face leaning over her.  His breath smelled like old cigars.

"Honestly sir, I don't remember.  Can you answer some questions for me?"

The Sergeant nodded.

"How did I get here?"  She asked.

"Ambulance."  His reply was curt as he used his tongue to shift his toothpick to the left side of his mouth. 

"Where was I when you found me?"  She struggled to control the nausea swelling up from the pit of her stomach.

"An alley."  Answered the policeman showing great annoyance at her questions.

Her head was throbbing.  "You're not a great wealth of information, are you?"  She whispered.

Suddenly a nurse and a man in a white jacket appeared.  She hoped he was a doctor, and could provide better information than the snippy, over-weight policeman.  She noticed an ID tag around his neck that read Dr. Woodruff.

"Sergeant, you have got to stop badgering this woman and let her get some rest.  She's lost quite a bit of blood.  Surely your questions can wait until later."

The policeman flipped his worn, notebook closed, and shoved a stub of a pencil into his shirt pocket.  He glared down at her, "Don't think you're goin' anywhere lady.  I'll be back."  He deliberately bumped the gurney and an electric shock of pain raced through her body.  In a huff he turned and stomped away.

How badly was she really hurt, she wondered?  Was she a victim of a crime,  or the perpetrator?  Couldn't anyone answer her questions?

"Doctor?" She whispered, grasping his arm.

"Yes?"

"I have so many questions I need to ask."

"Not now."  Carefully he removed her arm and rested it by her side.  "Just rest.  There's plenty of time to talk."

"Please...", her voice cracked, she was so tired, so weary, ...just one question.  Does he, the Sergeant, know where I was last night?"

The doctor's reply was soft and full of compassion.  "I don't know, just rest, try to sleep."

She smiled weakly.  The effort made her light headed and dizzy.  Slowly darkness began to creep in from the outer edges of her world.  The hallway grew black.  As she gave way to the darkness she knew wherever she had been last night it was going to change her life forever.