She moves past her husband. She looks down at her body, beaten, bruised, her face almost unrecognizable. One arm is in a cast.

“Melody,” her husband says, stifling a sob. “I don’t know if you can hear me. God, what were you thinking? You knew that area of town was dangerous! They caught the gang members who did this. Get this – they’re trying to say you hired them and were trying to double-cross them. You, a school teacher!”

Interesting, don’t you think? The woman’s voice is quiet, almost like she speaking from a long distance away. Do you know what you were doing there?

“No! I don’t remember!” Melody thinks, trying to cut through the fog of memory. “I… I left the school. I stopped at the bank to… to…”

Allow me, my dear. The woman’s voice starts taking on a slightly more malicious tone. You stopped at the bank because you needed to take out some money. After all, I doubt our associates would have taken a cheque.

The fog cleared, and her former life came crashing down around her.