Count Your Prayers

Count Your Prayers

Prologue:

The woman stirred, her moan of pain getting caught in her throat. Slowly, her senses came to her, and she heard steady, mechanical beeping from somewhere near her. When she tried to move her head, sharp shots of pain stabbed into her neck and skull, and she almost cried out.

Her eyes opened slowly, but her vision was clouded and blurry. Colours and shapes meshed together, and she couldn't remember.

She couldn't remember anything.

Why was she there? Where was she? What had happened? And... who was she?

"Please calm down, ma'am," a friendly and professional man's voice said from directly above her. "You're perfectly safe here. You're in St. Joseph's Hospital, in Florida. And I'm afraid you have a major case of amnesia."

"I... Oh, ow..." the woman groaned, her voice hoarse. But she noticed the accent right away; she had an accent. British, most likely, or disoriented Australian. The man was American.

"It's normal to feel this much pain. Now, just nod for yes, okay? Can you see me clearly?"

She immediately felt bombarded; she was frightened, and hurt, and answered quickly and softly, "N...No. My head..."

"That's fine. Do you remember anything at all?"

She blinked, and took her time answering. Or maybe she was just working up the energy to speak again.

"No."

"Also normal. Alright, try and rest. I'll be calling in the doctor in a moment." His professional act was dropping.

"You're not?" she asked, her voice squeaking.

"No, I'm a nurse. Dylan Isaac, at your service. Now get to sleep."

It wasn't hard; her eyelids fell instantly, and Dylan Isaac was the least of her problems.