"Dana?" the nurse said her name quietly. She opened her eyes and looked at the nurse, making a small noise in her throat. There was an intravenous needle in her left arm, and the bed control was on her right. She held the button down to raise the head of the bed to an upright position until she was sitting. The nurse took a pitcher from the bed stand and poured water into a plastic cup and handed it to her. Dana held her hand out for the pills, popped them into her mouth and swallowed. The nurse handed her the water and she drank the whole cup. Her mouth and throat were so dry. She held the cup out for a refill and the nurse obliged.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, picking the chart up. Dana looked closer at the nametag clipped to her uniform. "Rachel" it said, and Dana stifled a gasp. All the memories came flooding back in a rush. Her eyes filed with tears. The nurse looked sharply at her and wrote something else down. "Doctor Everett will be in to see you shortly," she said and turned to leave.

Dana waited until the nurse had left the room before the tears began to fall. It wasn't the scene that had shocked her so badly; it was the fact that it was Rachel, her best friend and only confidante that had been so brutally murdered in their own home. She was inured against the blood and gore; it was a large part of her job as a photographer for the police department. Her body shook with the sobs she refused to let go.

Doctor Everett came in about a half an hour later, after Dana had finished crying, but not before the redness left her eyes. She was still sniffling a little bit when he crossed the room and sat in the only chair in the room. He watched her for a few minutes before speaking. He held a clipboard similar to the one the nurse had, and had a pen ready. She looked up at the walls in the room, realizing for the first time that there was no clock anywhere in the room.

"What time is it?" she asked him. He pushed his sleeve up a bit to glance at his watch. "Three thirty," he answered her. She looked toward the window and saw light coming in around the edges. Afternoon. She wondered how long she had been sedated.

"You were brought in yesterday, if that is what you are wondering," he said. Dana leveled a sharp look at him. After years of therapy, she could recognize a shrink when she heard one. She inhaled deeply and let the air out slowly. Where should she start? "Okay," she said, "what do you want to know?"

He cleared his throat and looked back at the chart. "Well, I'm here to see if you are ready to speak with anyone, specifically the investigating officers." He watched her face for a reaction. She raised her eyes and shrugged. "I guess so," she answered, "Are they here now?" He nodded, and she continued, "Okay, then. Send them in before the drugs kick in again." There was an annoyed tone in her voice, and more than a little bitterness.

He stood and walked to the door, pulling it open. He waved to someone outside in the hall and stepped out of the room, holding the door open as two men came into the room. They were dressed in suits, looking more like executives than police officers. Detectives, she corrected herself. She shifted her position in the bed to get more comfortable as one of the men took the recently vacated chair and the other stayed at the entrance to the room.

The man in the chair took out a notepad and began writing. Dana watched him until he stopped writing and looked up at her. He nodded and she began to speak.

"I got home about five, parked outside, and came up the stairs. I had a migraine, so all I could think about was getting something for the pain. When I got to my door, I noticed that it was cracked open just a little bit. Sometimes Rachel doesn't close it all the way, like she's in a hurry or something. I went inside, dropped my purse on the couch and went straight to the bathroom. I didn't turn the light on, because it hurt my eyes." She paused to take a breath. The detective taking notes gave his partner a sidelong glance, but he was watching the girl on the bed. He wondered if his partner noticed that she was still talking about her friend in the present tense, as if she were still alive.

"I was turning around to leave the bathroom, when I slipped on something on the floor and lost my balance and feel down against the bathtub. That's when I saw the puddle on the floor. Rachel's door was locked, that's the one to the bathroom. That's when I knew something was wrong. She never locks that door. I was scared that someone might still be in the apartment. I went around to her room, to the other door and pushed it open. That's when the smell hit me." Dana stifled a sob as the tears started running down her face.

The detective that was standing took the box of tissues from the nightstand and handed them to her. She pulled one out of the box and blew her nose rather noisily.

"What does Rachel do for a living?" the man with the notepad asked her.

"Don't you mean 'did'?" Dana snapped back at him. "I don't think she'll be 'doing' anything anymore" "I'm sorry, Dana, I didn't mean to upset you," He did look genuinely contrite, and she softened a bit. "Okay, no, I know. It's just that she was a wonderful person. She used to volunteer at the homeless shelters; she did all kinds of humanitarian stuff. She had all kinds of projects going on with her volunteer stuff." She shrugged sadly. "Rachel had no enemies. Everyone loved her. I know that sounds so cliche, but it's true."

"What about you?" asked the man still standing by the door. Dana looked at him and shook her head. "I have no idea. I don't get out to socialize very much; I just go to work and stay home. Rachel tried to get me to go out with her sometimes, and I did, went out with her just to get her off my back."

"Hmm, okay," the detective that had been sitting stood up and tucked the notebook back into the pocket inside his jacket, "If you think of anything, please let us know."

The two men left the room and she was left alone to think. She was starting to get tired again, and pressed the bed control button to lay the bed back again. She had too much to think about now. Going back to the apartment was not a good idea, so she would need a place to stay. Maybe one of the officers would be able to go back there to get her some clothing, she didn't think she would even be able to force herself to go into the apartment again. Relaxing her body, she decided to sleep for a while. A nice nap, and then she would find out when they would be releasing her.

In her dream, Rachel stood at the end of her bed, covered in blood. Her face had been slashed and Dana could see the muscles around her mouth working to form words. She watched as the blood ran down Rachel's face in slow motion, and fell from her chin in large droplets. Bloody hands reached toward her and Dana's attention was drawn to the tips of Rachel's fingers, her normally long manicured nails torn off to the quick. "Get him," she said, the words garbled and slurred but understandable.

Dana promised everything she could. Whoever did this would not get away with it. Something suddenly clicked in her mind and she knew exactly what she would be needing, and what she had to do.