Dark Room

*2*

She awoke one night with fear sucking the breath from her lungs. She opened her eyes and strained them into the blackness. She was in a dark room-her dark room?-and she wasn't alone. Someone-something?-prowled the shadows beyond her vision.

What?

Fear ... fear ... FEAR ...

She sat bolt upright, sweat pouring down her back, screams issuing in a tumult of sound from her gaping mouth.

Light flooded the room. Comfort came in the shape of a woman's soft breasts, strong arms, and sweet voice. "There, there, Jane. It's all right. Come on, love, calm down. You had a nightmare."

But she knew that was wrong. Her terror was real. There was something in the dark room with her. "My name's Jinx," she whispered. "I'm a photographer, and this isn't my room." She laid her shaven head against the starched white uniform and knew the bitterness of defeat. There would be no more sweet dreams. "Where am I?" she asked. "Who are you? Why am I here?"

"You're in the Nightingale Clinic in Salisbury," said the nurse, "and I'm Sister Gordon. You were in a car accident, but you're safe now. Let's see if we can get you back to sleep again."

Jinx allowed herself to be tucked back under the sheets by a firm pair of hands. "You won't turn the light off, will you?" she begged. "I can't see in the dark."