Shards

prologue

Prologue:

Gasping, I stumbled forwards and grasped the door frame. The intensity of my pain was crippling. Everything hurt. My leg, my shoulder... My head. The world spun, and the tiny claws of some unseen demon ripped into the grey matter of my brain. Blood was matted all though my hair, some of it dry and some of it still flowing.

I heard the gasps as the occupants of the waiting room noticed my presence. They weren't in pain like I was, they weren't in danger. Potentially broken toes, kids with the flu; they could wait. I needed help now. I took another wobbling step forwards and the automatic doors slid shut behind me. Suddenly, I felt trapped. I shouldn't be here. I should be able to take care of myself. This was like surrendering, like giving myself up. That wasn't like me. I fought 'till the end, no matter what.

Even though I wanted to turn around and head right back out the doors, my injured body wouldn't allow it. Instead I found myself staggering up to the white desk. My legs gave way and I collapsed, catching myself on the counter. Moving my hand a little so that it would better support my weight, I noticed the crimson smear it left on the perfect, white counter top.

“Oh, god.” A nurse was standing over me, a clipboard clutched in her hand. “I just need you to hold on, okay? We need someone over here. Now!”

She reached out to touch my arm, but I jerked away like her touch would burn me. Everything had gone so terribly wrong. I let the muscles in my body go limp and I slid to the ground. In my boot I felt the pressure of my concealed knife, as I pushed my back into the cold linoleum.

I looked up, and now there was a doctor as well. The blood dripped into my eyes, making it impossible for me to make out his face, but it didn't matter. All I needed to see was the white lab coat and I could practically visualize the dripping needle in his hand. Why had I come here? Ian was going to kill me.

He leaned in close enough so that I could to make out his face; just in time for me to witness his expression change from concern to shock as I drew the knife from my boot. I clutched it in my hand, its familiar shape helping to calm me. It was a serrated hunting knife, my favourite. I wasn't helpless, I could still defend myself.

I felt someone attempting to pry the knife from my grip, but I blindly slashed out in their direction. Everything was a blur of white and blinding light. As I slipped into unconsciousness, one thought stayed dominant in my mind.

I couldn't lose myself again, not after I'd worked so hard last time to pick up the pieces.

“Jaylee,” I whispered to myself, “my name is Jaylee.”