Phoenix. I was in Phoenix.

The reminder served to push the foreign desert of my nightmares back where

it belonged, thousands of miles away. I pried my eyes open, and tried to muffle

the whimper as the light ratcheted the mind-numbing ache in my head higher.

Involuntary tears trailed down my chin. I raised a heavy arm to wipe the annoying weakness away, and missed, only then realizing my muscle control

was iffy. The second attempt was more successful. Using the same hand to shield

my burning eyes, I blinked until my vision slowly returned. When I thought it was safe, I lowered my hands and was met with a cement block fence decorated

in urban art made up of intricate curls of white, black, and brown.

Turning my head with care, I took in my surroundings. The grey metal of the

garbage dumpster next to me magnified the heat, but it also worked as a great crutch as I struggled to my feet. I leaned against the uncomfortably warm surface

and waited for my body and gravity to stop arguing. The sun’s unrelenting rays

wreaked havoc on my eyes, so I let them close and took a moment to catalogue

my aches and pains, an endeavor that became difficult when they melded into one big, throbbing mass.

My stomach was tender, my ribs ached, my left leg trembled, and my face felt like one huge bruise. My head pulsed in time with my heart, and my abused

brain protested any movement. The rhythmic pressure of my body’s complaints

fragmented my thoughts before they could fully form, yet there was an

inescapable underlying sense of urgency. Until the waves of pain receded, I wouldn’t be able to figure out what was triggering it.

“Miss? Are you all right?”

The cautious question was uttered in a male voice, and my heart kicked into

overdrive. I slitted my eyes open just enough to make out a human shaped blob

hovering near an open door.

“Miss? Do I need to call someone?” The voice sounded closer.

“No.” The one word tore across my vocal cords. I winced, coughed, and tried

again. “No, thanks.” I didn’t dare straighten and lose my metal crutch because my spinning head left my balance shot to hell.

The blob moved closer. It was carrying something. The armful of flattened cardboard came into focus, as did the wary, skeptical expression filling a weathered face. The man wore faded jeans, and a green, collared shirt that stretched over a barrel chest. “You don’t look so good, you sure?”

If I looked anything like how I felt, I must have looked like death warmed

over. I forced a weak smile and scrambled for a plausible answer. “Long Friday night, just heading home. What time is it?”

The guy frowned, and something in his expression made my stomach pitch.

“It’s just after three on Sunday.”

“Sunday?” Shock and fear crawled through me. Sunday? What the hell

happened to Saturday? My mind shied away from the unforgiving canvas of empty memory and slid into a black hole of nothing.

I must have whimpered because the guy looked alarmed and took a half step

forward. “You sure you’re okay, lady?”

“Um, yeah, sorry. Just have a hell of a headache.”

“Mmm hmm.” He heaved the cardboard he carried into the nearby bin. “You

shouldn’t drive in your condition.”

Yeah, what condition would that be? Clamping down on the urge to release a

hysterical giggle, I managed a short nod. “I’ll catch a cab.” I surreptitiously checked my pockets and found a couple of twenties, my key ring, and driver’s license. No phone. “Um, can I borrow a phone?”

I stumbled after him into a small print shop. Under the gimlet eye of the Good Samaritan, who’s name tag said Todd, I called a cab to pick me.

Thankfully, the phone was near a pile of business cards. The shop’s address put

me in the middle of downtown Phoenix, miles from Kelsey’s condo. After being

assured the driver would be there in fifteen minutes, I hung up the phone and asked Todd, who was pretending to do important things while keeping me in sight, “Do you have a bathroom I could use?”

Heeding his directions, I shuffled down the back hall, and slipped inside the

bathroom, locking the door behind me. I leaned against the door as tremors raced

through me and let out a hitching breath. Safe from curious eyes, I gathered my

waning courage and turned to the mirror above the sink.

My dark hair was a tangled mess. My skin was stretched tight over my

cheekbones, the shade beyond pale, and closer to gray. It made the soft, purpling

bruise that spanned my cheekbone and up to my temple stand out in stark relief.

I lifted trembling fingers to brush along the mark where I’d been hit, trying to remember how it got there. Dark circles bagged under my eyes and my lower lip