Grace's eyes opened at the sound of her name. In her after-sleep blur, she could just make out the single bright light bulb hanging from the ceiling. She didn't know where she was. She felt heavy, weak; she could barely move at all. She struggled to focus, to turn her head to the side to avoid the glare of the bulb. Her eyes darted left, then right but the shadows from the harsh light made it hard to distinguish anything in the room. She tried to think. She felt like she was floating. Weightless.

Running through the field behind the house chasing butterflies through the flowers, bright yellow and blue. The wind is cool. She is wearing her sweater, white with pink and green lambs, her favorite. The orange and black butterflies float on the breeze around her, bobbing up and down, side-to-side.

She runs into the shed, dark. Damp smell of wood and something else. She runs down the hallway, growing longer, darker, damper. No butterflies. The door is gone, lost. She runs around the corner, light ahead, a crack.

She hits the ground with a thud. Her chin bounces against the splinters. Brushing away the dust and dirt. There is something sticky on her sweater, red and brown. She looks behind. A cat. Insides out, fur slicked with dried blood.

She runs further, faster, deeper. No door. No way out. Nothing.

"Mommy!"

Grace chewed involuntarily as it was placed in her mouth. She wasn't hungry, she didn't think, but couldn't remember the last time she ate, either. It was sweet and tender, but she couldn't place the taste. She could not place anything. She chewed again and swallowed as the next morsel was placed to her lips. She opened her eyes and, after a moment, could just make out the figure standing above her in the shadows.

"Where am I?"

She saw him smile but didn't hear a response.

"Where am I?" she struggled to ask as he pressed more meat to her lips.

"Shhhh."

His face would not quite come into focus. He was wearing a dark blue jacket, or black. Either was strange for a nurse, she thought. She wasn't sure why she thought he was a nurse, other than she felt sick and the room smelled clean, like a hospital.

"What happened?" she asked, looking up into the blur of his eyes.

"Not now, darling," he smiled, "We'll explain it all in time. Now, you need to eat. You'll need your strength. We have to go slow, darling."

He pressed a straw to her lips and she felt the liquid in her mouth. She swallowed, her mouth dry from the chewing. She looked up again but he had gone, or faded, or blurred.

The seats smell like beer and cigarettes. Her own beer is in the blue plastic cup holder hanging from the window. The Cure on the stereo. Too loud. His hand is under her skirt.

"Whoa!"

"Relax, baby, it's me. I love you!"

His breath smells stale.

"I feel ill, I want to go home. You drank too much."

"I'm drunk, it's true, but I love you, and you know what I wanna do!"

Teeth flash in the dim car light.

"Stop!"

His hand is under her skirt again. His other fumbles with the buttons of her blouse.

"Oh, stop!" he mocks and mashes his lips to hers.

Grace awoke with a start. She thought, for a moment, that someone had touched her thigh. She blinked her eyes to clear the sleep, but it was no use. It was too dark. She tried to sit up but couldn't. She pushed with her elbows but fell back onto the bed. Struggling to focus, she tried to see something in the dark. She thought she heard movement.

"Hello?"

The movement stopped. There was the faint whisper of breathing in the dark. Whoever it was seemed to be trying to breathe slowly, quietly.

"I hear you! What's going on?"

The breathing became slower as hers increased.

"Who's there? Help me, please!"

She heard the click of what sounded like a latch. A slight breeze of movement tickled her face, then nothing. No breathing. No sound.

"No!" she sobbed, "Don't leave me. Don't leave me alone!"

Oh, look at the puppies! Running down the aisle, falling to her knees and pressing her nose up against the glass-front cage. The chocolate lab pup trips over to the glass, pressing his nose up to hers.

"Oh, Mommy, look!"

Grace looks up to where her mother isn't standing.

"Mommy?" she calls out, looking left and right, rising to her feet. Down the aisle to the front, back through the crowds, no Mommy.

"Mommy!"

She runs out into the mall, past the stunned clerk at the register.

"Mommy!" she cries as she runs into the mall crowd.

Nobody sees her. Nobody stops to help. Nowhere is her mommy.

"Mommy!" she screams at the top of her lungs.

"Do you need some help?"

It's not her mommy. It's a man, a man in a dark blue shirt with something shiny on his pocket.

"No!" she runs off into the crowd, "Stranger, stranger, stranger!"

The stunned crowd parts in front of her like a wave, blown apart by the sheer force of her screams.

"Mommy!"

She stops, spinning around and around. The man in the blue shirt is behind her, calling to her.

"No!"

"Mommy! Where are you?" Grace throws her hands over her face. Somebody touches her shoulder and she screams, louder than before.

"It's me, darling," her mother says, "it's all right, you're just lost."

Grace awoke hungry. She thought that she could smell something cooking. Barbeque. She opened her eyes slowly.

"Hello?"

Her voice was weak and cracked.

"Good morning, darling!"

It was the same nurse, again. He appeared looming over her, sticking a straw near her lips. Grace gladly accepted. Her throat was parched, dry, sticky. She drank for a few moments before releasing the straw from her lips.

"Thirsty, darling?" he laughed as he wiped her chin.

"What were you doing last night?"

"What?"

"Last night. It was dark, I heard you here but you didn't answer. Or, maybe it was someone else?"

"It couldn't have been anyone else, darling. It's just me."

He smiled. His teeth were slightly crooked and yellowed, but not unattractive.

Grace tried to sit up again but he grabbed her hand, pulling her slightly off balance and back onto the bed.

"You mustn't get up, darling, you're much too weak. We'll need all your strength."

"What happened to me?"

"It's okay, darling, I'm taking good, good care of you."

"But, what happened? Where am I?"

"It's okay."

His smile weakened.

"I'd like to see my mother. Can you call my mother? Is anyone here?"

"No."

"What is going on?" she screamed.

His face transformed before her eyes. At first, he looked shocked at the force of her scream, but then it relaxed. His jaw un-tensed, the creases in his forehead smoothed out. His smile went flat.

"There was an accident, darling. I'm helping you, now. You'll be just fine, absolutely deliciously fine, darling. Just fine. I'm taking good, good care of you."

"An accident? What?"

"You fell down, darling, right outside my house. I took you in, you looked so? so helpless."

"An accident? Why didn't you take me to a hospital, call an ambulance?"

"No, no. I'm taking good, good care of you, darling. You're not in any pain, are you?"

"No, but that's not the fucking point!"

"Shhhh. You shouldn't say things like that."

"What the hell happened to me?"

"Don't cuss, darling."

"Fuck you! What the hell is going on?" Grace yelled.

His eyes looked hurt suddenly, like he was going to cry. Grace felt him reach under her shoulder and lift.

"There's time for that later," he said, "not now. It's time for your shot."

He rolled her over facing away from him. Grace felt her arm flop against her chest, limp. And then she was rolled back. She didn't feel a needle, no pricking, no sting. He reached down and adjusted her hips. Grace couldn't feel her legs. It wasn't like they had fallen asleep; she just couldn't feel them. She tried to kick. Nothing. She tried to wiggle her toes. Nothing. She tried to lift herself to look downward but fell back dizzy. The room was spinning swirling. And then it was gone.

When Grace awoke, the room was pitch black. She tried again to wiggle her toes but felt nothing. She was weak. Shrugging the blanket off of her chest, she lifted herself up onto her elbows but it was too dark to see. Carefully, Grace balanced on her left elbow and slowly reached down with her right hand. She ran it along her body, over the blanket. She could feel her hand on her breast, her stomach, then nothing. She could feel her body under the blanket but there was no sensation of pressure from her hand. She reached down to run her hand along her thigh and he grabbed her wrist. Grace screamed.

"Uh, uh, uh," he scolded, "leave it alone, darling."

"What's the matter with me?" Grace yelled, "What have you done?"

There was no answer. Grace could see nothing in the dark. She turned her head back and forth, trying to find something to focus on, nothing. She tried to feel around but he was still holding her wrist, rubbing her arm. She tried to pull away, but didn't have the strength.

"What are you doing?" Grace called out into the blackness.

Nothing.

He pushed her shoulders back into the bed and held her down as she tried to wiggle free. Grace felt the hair on his arms brush up against her cheek as he leaned over her, pinning her shoulders to the bed.

"I don't want to do this," he whispered, close to her ear.

Grace felt a strap wrap around her left wrist. Then he released her shoulder and pulled her right arm to the side of the bed. He yanked the last knot tight. He didn't say anything but Grace could hear him breathing hard.

"Where are you? What are you doing?" she called out.

She heard him take a step. More breathing, further away in the room. There was some other noise. Grace couldn't place it.

"Say something!"

Grace felt the bed move, shake. His breath grew quicker. It was closer now.

"What are you doing? Untie me!" she said, "You can't do this to me!"

Her mind was racing, trying to piece together what happened, what was going on. She couldn't remember an accident, or where she would have been that no one would have known about it.

"Look, goddamn it! Untie me!"

He moaned and Grace felt the bed shake again. She held her breath and closed her eyes, trying to hear what she could not see. He was moving; she could hear his feet shuffle on the floor. Something dripped onto her lip, salty, like sweat, or blood. Grace sobbed. Her own tears mixed with the taste in her mouth. She heard the latch again. And then nothing.

She is swimming. The Y.M.C.A. pool. Third grade. The water is cold. She knew, just knew, that the lap was too far, she told the lady that she couldn't do it. She hears the other girls already finished chatting away, far away.

She kicks and kicks but her legs are numb. Chlorine in her eyes, her nose. Her tears mix with the water. She gasp, choking on a mouthful of water. The salt burns her mouth, her throat, her lungs. She looks down into the deep blue.

Flash of teeth, her leg comes off with one bite, trailing red. The big fish, shark, swims off into the darkness.

Looking up, she sees the lights from the roof wavering above, pretty red streamers swirl in her wake; little Christmas ball bubbles float up away. Her lungs burn.

Grace awoke gasping for air. It was light again. The single bare bulb was blinding. There was cooking again, Grace choked breathing in the smell; she had a hard time catching her breath.

"Good morning, darling!"

"I?I can't catch my breath," she wheezed.

"I was afraid this might happen soon," he stood over her, a green plate steaming in his hand. He picked up a piece of browned meat with a fork and put it to his mouth, "Oh, are you hungry?"

He finished the bite and smiled, there was a piece of meat stuck between his front teeth. Grace tried to breath deeply, but she felt shallow, like she could not take in enough air.

"I can fix you a plate," he said, "there's just enough left, I think, but it's going bad. If you're hungry?"

"I can't breath!" she yelled.

"I know, darling," he lifted her head and added a pillow behind her, "There's not a whole lot I can do about that now."

"What?" she looked up at him, "Help me, please, take me to a doctor. I'll tell them you tried to help. I won't blame you. Get me help, please!"

"Wouldn't you rather have a bite first?" he asked, reaching the fork to her mouth.

"God damn it, help me!" she wheezed.

"Oh, darling," he smiled and the sliver of meat wiggled between his teeth.

She could smell the sweet sent of the meat under her nose. She looked down at the fork. And then past it, down the blanket, down the bed to where her legs stuck from under the blanket. Or should have. Her left leg was completely gone. Where her right should have been was a split open mass of skin and bone, with large chunks cut from the muscle.

"What the hell have you done!" she screamed.

She watched as the stump of flesh wiggled on the blood stained bed as she sobbed.

"Help!" she screamed. She looked around for the door, a way out, away.

"That's enough, darling. Don't get yourself too excited, your heart won't take it."

"Why?" she screamed, "What did you do to me? What did you do? Help!"

"It's okay, darling," he said, "You haven't felt a thing. I've taken good, good care of you, haven't I? Yes. You've been just delicious, darling, the best ever. I've really enjoyed you, darling, really, really - but there's nothing I can do now. It's all spoiled now, darling."

Grace fell back onto the pillow crying. He stood above her, reaching to wipe her face. Grace spit at his hand.

"Get away from me!"

He closed his eyes and shuttered, wiping his hand on his jacket. His tongue moved beneath his top lip. Grace's breath was coming weaker, she struggled to stay awake, gasping and choking for air.

"Thank you, darling," he smiled, the sliver of meat was gone, "You really have been just delicious."

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