A worried woman’s voice was pulling her from a deep sleep. This person was demanding, but Amelia didn’t respond.

An impatient male tone came next. “Miss Remington, can you hear me? I’m Dr. Hudson. You’ve been in an accident. Can you hear me?”

Amelia tried to ignore the question and go back to floating. Only now, more voices were mumbling in the mud in her mind. Too many voices to count. Too many to disregard.

She opened one eye slightly to see what was happening and pain crawled over her entire body. First it tiptoed along her limbs, then sank into her skin, flowing toward her core until she couldn’t breathe without hurting.

“Miss Remington!” A middle-aged woman in green scrubs moved closer. “Welcome back. We’ve all been waiting hours for you to join us.”

The room came into focus. White with blue trim. A strong smell of antiseptics. A huge window with rain dripping in tiny streams. Only blackness beyond.

The world seemed to be crying just beyond her room.

“Where am I?” she whispered, but no one answered.

She had lost part of her day. She’d lost time. For a moment, she slipped back to being a little thin girl who was late getting home. Her father interrogated her as he jerked her arm so hard her entire body reacted like a whip.

“What time is it?” she asked aloud as she realized she hadn’t made it to the market or had supper. It might even be too late to do next week’s schedule or watch the news.

“I lost time,” she wanted to scream, but the memory of a hard slap from thirty years ago came back. Her father yelled, “If you lose time, you lose your life.”

But no slap came now. Only a calm voice. “It’s almost midnight, miss. You were in an accident.” The nurse put her hand on Amelia’s shoulder. “Dr. Hudson says you’re lucky to be alive.”

Amelia knew she’d have to keep her eyes open to find a clock, but she wanted to go back to the muddy place where there was silence and no pain. This room was too bright. Strangers surrounded her. She wasn’t in control.

The doctor’s voice came again, softer now. “Miss, you’re going to be all right. You’ve got a bad sprain to your right wrist, but it’s not broken. Your left leg is fractured. You have a cut on your head, nothing serious, and a dislocated shoulder along with scrapes and bruises.”

“You’re going to be fine, miss.” The nurse patted her on the arm. “Don’t you worry.”

Amelia swallowed and whispered, “What happened exactly?” Details were the backbone of her life.