02

The next few nights she slept restlessly. She'd awaken in the dead of the night fearful of the shadows that occupied her room, her body soaked and her thoughts in shambles.

She knew her shattered dreams were reoccurring images of what had led to her this point. They were consistent, frightening and always with a faceless man that terrified her.

The man's identity was a mystery but she knew he was dangerous and the reason she was in a hospital.

She fell asleep every night with tears on her pillow, musing over the child she had lost. Was the faceless man the father?

Her fears hastened all the more as she considered the horrific possibilities that rendered her to a bed.

Had she been raped?

Beaten?

Kidnapped?

Her anxieties magnified all the more whilst her memory failed her.

Little by little fleeting images came to her and the more her battered mind tentatively revealed, the more terrified she became.

A full week in bed she finally managed the strength and mustered the courage to face a mirror.

Against Dr. Jenson's orders, it took her a grueling fifteen minutes to unravel from the bed onto unsteady legs, her hospital gown hanging like a parachute on her startling thin frame. Gripping her IV stand as a support system, she sought a mirror; her steps deliberate and slow as each movement caused ample pain.

The image she found forced a sharp, audible gasp from her throat.

She stood there for a considerable time, daunted.

The face was alarmingly pale which pronounced the blue and black that covered it. Her hand trembled as she raised it to the eyes peering hauntingly back at her, the features unrecognizable beneath many discoloring bruises.

With trembling hands, she pushed hair from her temple to reveal a rather large, nasty gash.

Gingerly, she pressed a finger over her split lip, its tenderness causing her to wince.

Her eyes then settled on her swollen throat and she sucked in a breath.

Marred with bruises and a distinguishable redness that gave way to a number of scratches as well as an ominous bruising of hand prints, she realized, horrifyingly that someone had tried strangling her.

It rendered her stunned and immensely terrified.

Her hand shaking she pressed it to the flatness of her belly, imagining a baby nestled there as all the horror now grimly displayed to her body had occurred, sealing her unborn child's fate.

Gasping for a sudden breath, she pivoted abruptly from the mirror which wrenched a cry from her throat.

Agonizing pain seized her and she clutched at her cracked ribs.

Unshed tears blurred her vision as she sought her bed.

She took a step and crumpled to the floor.

It was her second week of being confined to a bed that a man came to visit her.

She eyed the middle-aged man suspiciously as he entered her room. Studying the face immensely, she tried picturing this man pummeling all his suppressed rage upon her.

Her mind drew a blank. He didn't fit.

He was dressed accordingly from head to toe; his sleek, black shoes squeaking against the linoleum. Pressed in the crook of his arm against the fine material of his slate-gray suit, she noticed a buff, manila folder.

"Miss Channing?" his eyes were questioning as they moved over her crippled appearance.

She pulled her linen tighter against her.

She didn't trust this man. She didn't trust anyone but as Dr. Jenson stepped into the room a slight wave of relief washed over her.

He was a welcoming sight, the Doctor, he took good care of her, mostly due to the fact that there was no one there to claim her, or accompany her in this horrid, chilly room.

He greeted her, as always with those warm eyes and a charming smile.

"Kate-" he motioned to the middle-aged man, "-this is Robert Danton, he's hear to speak with you on some matters concerning family."

She stiffened. She wasn't sure what to make of that. Did she have family?

Dr. Jenson gave her a reassuring nod, shoved his fists in his coat pockets and left the room quietly, leaving her to the austere man.

Mr. Danton motioned to the empty chair, "May I sit?"

She nodded, watching him warily.

He cleared his throat as he shuffled to a chair, his gray slacks rising on his calves to reveal tall, black socks.

"Miss Channing, I understand this is a terribly unconventional time considering the circumstances." He fell silent, his eyes dancing briefly over her face.

She sank deeper into her linen.

Another clearing of the throat, he said quite matter-of-factly, "Your great aunt has died."

Her memory had steadily come back to her of her two week duration at the hospital, some things were still imminently fuzzy, including the faceless man that put her here but at the mention of a great aunt, a name immediately popped to mind.

"Aunt Mae?" she croaked sorely.

He straightened in his seat, his thick brows rising, surprised, "Why, yes."

Kate pondered this. With her memory still badly battered, she could recall very little about her great aunt, just that she was an elderly, lonely woman who enjoyed her solitude a little more than most should.

Mr. Danton proceeded to talk as he opened the manila folder, "Miss Channing, I will keep this brief." He said, taking note of her slacken appearance, "I am your great aunt's probate attorney. I handle all legal aspects of her will as well as her estate."

Kate swallowed, feeling the prominent soreness of her throat as she eyed the stranger with puzzlement.

Why was he here telling her this?

Wasn't there another relative?

And a tiny voice answered somewhere within.

There are no other relatives.

And as if a small piece of her memory attached itself to the rest, she remembered quite distinctly, she had no other family but her great aunt Mae.

The shuffling of papers drew her from her musings as Mr. Danton proceeded to explain, "I won't go into the details of your aunt's passing until we've discussed things further, but-" he paused, his eyes accessing the paperwork. "-she has left you as beneficiary of all assets."

Her head had been swimming and for a moment she was uncertain if she'd heard him correctly. She peered at him uncertain and somewhat cautiously.

"Beneficiary?" she whispered.

He nodded, "Yes, ma'am." He motioned to a spot on the paper, "Your name is written here in her will."

Kate inclined her head, peering more severely at the man, "You mean-"

"Your great aunt had no outstanding debts, none of which that needed to be obtained any how. She had a considerable trust fund that took care of all other expenses, including funeral costs and any other additional fees." He paused, "She's left you an inheritance as well as her estate in Asheville, North Carolina."

Her heart hastened within her chest.

Did her faceless abuser know of her great aunt in Asheville?

It was a lifeline that she was willing and had to take.

"Is our conversation confidential, Mr. Danton?" she asked warily.

A sternness crossed his brow, "Yes, ma'am. It would be my job otherwise."

Somewhat comforted by that, she then asked, "You said my Aunt Mae left me an inheritance?"

He nodded and said with a straight face, "$500,000 to be exact."

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