Twelve years ago...

Dr. Elinor Drake McCall sat in a hospital bed, her legs looking short and thin beneath the sheet, dark brown hair limp about her shoulders, head turned to gaze out the window. The IV was no longer hooked to her arm. All the monitors were silent. In the hallway, her husband, Angus, was speaking in hushed tones with her obstetrician. She couldn?t hear the words, but she knew what was being said.

Elinor looked down at her hands. They were bruised from where the needles had been fitted into her veins. She turned them over, looking at their emptiness.

The sound of heels clicking on the floor caused her to look up. Her obstetrician, Dr. Reed, stood at the end of her bed looking over her chart.

?So good news. It looks like we?ll be discharging you today. Your husband is completing the paperwork at admitting.? She smiled, looking up from the chart. ?How are you feeling? Do you have any residual pain??

Elinor looked down at her hands again. She smoothed out the blue hospital gown along her thighs. Did she feel any pain? She couldn?t even feel the coarse material of the gown beneath her fingertips. She felt nothing. She was an empty vessel.

There would be pain. She knew there would. She could sense it every time she looked at her husband?s face. But for now she was just numb. And she didn?t want it to end.

Elinor looked back up at Dr. Reed. There were only two possible answers. One was the truth. One was a lie. ?Pain? Yes. Quite a bit actually.?

?That?s to be expected. I?ll write you a scrip for lortabs. That should take care of the pain.?

?Hey, Dr. Eee McCee!? The booming voice called across the Emergency Room. Elinor looked up and smiled, watching as Cliff came towards her. He was big and barrel chested, an ear to ear grin splitting his face beneath his shaggy mop of red hair. Eva lowered the chart she was holding just in time to be wrapped up in his huge bear hug.

?How are you doing, Cliff??

?Peachy as always baby. Nice to see your fine behind back on staff.?

?I keep telling you Cliff, I?m married.? Elinor smiled, settling into the rhythm of their usual good natured ribbing.

?And yet, I've never seen this mythical husband of yours.?

?Well I assure you, he exists, and he'd be none too pleased to be called mythical.?

?Yeah yeah. You thought you had me with that whole fake pregnancy thing...? Cliff laughed for a second. Then it died.

Elinor couldn't stop her reaction. Her stomach dropped. Her body tensed. Her cheeks flushed. She didn?t know how to respond, so she cast her eyes down.

Cliff?s face fell, his voice muffling as if the sound were folding in on itself. ?Oh god, Elinor, I?m sorry. That was a stupid thing to say.?

?Yeah it was.? The words came out like spit. Elinor took a breath to rein in her temper.

?I?m so sorry.? Cliff reached out and touched her arm with his big hand.

?It?s fine. Don?t worry about it.? Elinor looked up at him, and pushed off the nurses? station forcing him to follow into the hallway towards privacy. ?Cliff, can you do me a favor??

?Sure, E, what do you need??

?I ran out of my pain meds and I don?t have my follow up with Reed until next week. Would you write me a scrip to cover me??

Cliff raised a brow, looking uncertain. ?Uh??

Elinor met his gaze, hazel eyes unflinching. She could practically see the guilt coursing through him.

He nodded. ?Alright, sure. What did she have you on? Vicodin??

?Lortabs. Either would be fine, you know, same difference.?

Cliff reached into his coat pocket for his prescription pad and started jotting it down. ?Fourteen??

?Twenty eight.?

Cliff?s pen froze on the prescription pad and he looked down at Elinor. ?Twenty eight? That?s four a day, E. I thought you were back on rotation.?

?I am. I won?t be taking nearly that much, but I don?t want to have to bother you if my appointment with Reed gets pushed back. Between both of our schedules, you know how that is.?

He eyed her a moment, and then his pen continued scribbling. When he was done he tore off the sheet and held it out to her. She took it from his hand, and tucked it away. ?Thank you.?

?Elinor???

?Yeah??

?I?m really sorry.? He looked down at her, all of the light gone out of his face.

Elinor nodded. ?Yeah. Everyone?s sorry.?

?Elinor! Open this door right now!?

Pounding. There was pounding coming from somewhere. Was it inside her head? She?d felt that before. Elinor rolled over. She was in a bed. Rough sheets against her bare skin.

?Angus, calm down ? ?

? ? Dad, let me handle this.?

The voices were distant. Her eyes cracked open. There was a man beside her. Sleeping. Or passed out. Elinor turned towards the voices and the pounding. They were coming from outside. From outside the door. There was a bright white frame to the window where the light was shining around the cheap blinds. It looked like a corona during an eclipse. Motel room blinds.

?Elinor! Open the door!?

?Angus, this is not the way to deal ??

?That?s my wife in there! Don?t tell me to calm down! ELINOR!?

Elinor winced at the shout. Her heart started to pick up pace as she began to awaken to her situation. Her husband and father were just outside the door. She sat up in the bed and reached towards the bedside table. The drawer opened with a loud wooden scrape. A shaking hand swept across the top of the table, hypodermic needle, rubber tie, cotton swab, all dropping into the drawer before she struggled to get it shut again.

The pounding of the door got louder, and now it was shaking in its frame as if her husband were kicking it beside the locks. Elinor reached for the sheet to cover her naked body just as the door burst open. Light flooded the room, and she raised an arm to cover her eyes.

?Oh my god. Oh my god!?

?Angus get out. Get out! I?ll handle this.?

?Son of a bitch! I?m going to kill him!?

Elinor?s eyes adjusted in time to see her husband being physically pushed out of the room by their father.

The sleeping man beside her started to come around, leaning up on an arm and turning towards the fray, sheet drifting down his naked body. ?What the ? ? His long lean form looked filthy in the streaming bright light.

Then the door slammed shut on her husband, the room cast in shadow again. Elinor watched as her father leaned against the wall a moment, his big broad back heaving as he breathed. Then he turned and started towards the bed. At first she thought he might hit her, but instead he grabbed her arm, making her drop the sheet she was using to cover herself, and turned it over. When she realized what he was looking for, she tried to pull her arm away, but he?d already seen. Track marks.

?Oh Jesus. Eli.? He seemed more scared than angry.

?Look man, I don?t want any trouble ? ?

Her father pointed a finger at the man beside her in the bed. ?Don?t you even speak to me.?

Elinor?s breath was coming in fast. She grabbed for the sheet again, covering her naked body. She felt like she might be sick. Shame filled her in a way she?d never felt before, and it was her father?s fault.

?Go away! Go away! Go away!? Once she got started saying it, she couldn?t stop. After a while she didn?t know whether she was saying it to her father, or to herself.

Her father stood looking at her for a moment, then bent down and picked up her shirt from the floor. He tossed it at her. ?Get dressed.?

It was barely dawn when Mike Nixon came down the ramp at the back of the hospital, the orange street light making his green scrubs look dingy beneath his coat. Elinor waited for him across the empty lot, lingering just beyond the sight line of the security cameras. She watched as he cupped his hand to light a cigarette and then strolled across the empty asphalt in her direction, as if he were just out for a stroll and a smoke.

?Didn?t expect to see you back so soon, doc. What?s up??

He smelled bad and Elinor had to stop herself from scrunching her nose. ?I need a new ID.?

?What happened to Sandra Cook??

Elinor shrugged. ?She?s dead, isn?t she??

?They?re all dead. This is the morgue, sister.? Nixon motioned with his hand to the building behind him, his cigarette waving in the cold dawn air.

?She?s dead,? Elinor repeated more firmly, her eyes on him.

?Alright, alright, doc. What kind of name do you want?? He held his cigarette between his lips, pulling a thick set of IDs from his coat pocket.

?I don?t care? just? something? not doctorly.?

Nixon looked up at her, then pulled a card from the stack and turned it her way. ?How about this one??

Elinor took the card and looked down at the picture. The woman was middle-aged, with a big aura of purple red hair in long curly waves. Her grin was exuberant. Elinor looked over at the name beside the photo and frowned. ?Eva Luna??

?Yeah. Think she was some sort of hippie.?

?What?d she die of??

?The big C. Heard she wouldn?t accept treatment, just you know, natural crap, or something.?

Elinor rolled her eyes. ?I guess that?s about as undoctorly as you can get.? She held the card out for him to take back. ?You need me to get you a picture??

?Nah, they?ve still got your pic on the network from your hospital ID.? He took a last pull from his cigarette, crushed it beneath his sneaker, then reached out to take back the ID card.

?Great.? Elinor looked away from him towards the building.

Nixon followed her eye line, looking back over a shoulder at the hospital, then back to her. ?They talk about you like some sort of soap opera heroine or something.?

Elinor was quiet a moment, then shrugged. ?Whatever. It?s just talk.?

Nixon nodded, watching her. ?Yeah. You ain?t part of no story anyhow. You?re a real live fallen angel. That?s what I think anyhow. It?s what I keep telling them.?

Elinor looked past him at the hospital. Along the rooftop there was a neon blue cross, the brightness fading in the dawn light. Elinor shook her head and looked back at Nixon.

?Don?t tell them anything. Alright? Next time. Just don?t say anything.? Elinor shoved her hands in her pockets and looked at Nixon, then turned to go. ?I?ll come back tomorrow at the same time. With the money.?

?I know you?re good for it.? Nixon watched her go, reaching into his coat pocket for his packet of cigarettes. ?Real live fallen angel.?

?Lance, what is it?? Eva was disoriented, trying to get her eyes to open. Sheets shifted and tugged around her as Styers got up, taking away the warmth of his body. He leaned over to her side of the bed, the side she?d claimed from him over the last month, and he kissed her gently on the cheek.

?Don?t worry girl. It?s fine.? He smoothed the hair back from her face, and then reached for his pants.

Eva watched him through narrowed eyes, her eyelashes making the view blurry. This wasn?t their morning routine. Lance liked to wake up together. She?d learned that the first week she?d spent there, when she?d started a shower before him, and he pulled her out, naked and wet, and tossed her back into bed.

?Should I get up?? Eva mumbled groggily, and tried to pull herself to a sitting position, still sluggish from the night before.

?No, go back to sleep.? He finished buttoning his pants, and stepped back to her, bending over to kiss her once again.

Eva nodded and sunk back into the sheets, letting herself drift back to sleep.

*****

She awoke to the sound of muffled grunts. Lance was still gone. She rolled over, her eyes coming up slow, and felt for Lance?s watch, the one he kept on his bedside table. Still the afternoon. Early for her to be awake. She sat up, her mouth dry like a desert, and set her bare feet down on the cold marble floor.

The noise was coming from the next room; fleshy thuds and groans. Eva?s white negligee fell into place as she stood. Her feet passed silently across the floor. The door was open a crack.

The view down the hall was just a narrow strip, but it was enough for Eva. Lance?s fist thudded into the face of a man prostrate on the marble floor, the stone beneath him unforgiving, making the man a piece of meat on a butcher?s block. Lance knelt over him, silent but for the sound of his irregular blows, his bare-chested skin slick with sweat. The man beneath him groaned and gurgled, blood spilling from his lips. Lance grabbed the man by the collar and struck him dead on. With a crack, Eva heard his nasal bone break. Blood splattered Lance?s pale skin, but he didn?t stop the onslaught of blows. Eva raised a hand to grip her neck and tried to swallow. She couldn?t breathe, but she couldn?t look away. Lance was breaking the man?s face. Knocking his teeth out. His zygomatic bone inverted. She didn?t need an x-ray to see it. If he lived he?d need to have his jaw wired. When Lance released him, the man lay on the cold floor in a pool of his own blood.

Eva couldn?t recognize the man. It wouldn?t have been impossible if she?d gotten to the door sooner, but now his face was disfigured and clouded with blood. She knew that Raj and Jinks usually took care of things for Lance, but she had fooled herself into thinking that Lance himself wasn?t capable of that kind of violence. It didn?t matter who the stranger was or what he had done. His punishment terrified Eva.

Lance stood up, and she could see Raj toss him a towel. ?Get rid of him.? Lance stepped back and wiped the blood from his hands.

Eva stumbled back from the door. Her entire body shook like she had a fever. She had to get back to the bed. She could lose herself in the white sheets. Pretend she?d never woken up. Pretend she?d been sleeping. Maybe she could make it true. She took short shallow breaths as she moved silently back to the bed. She wrapped herself in the white sheets like a shroud, and tried to disappear.

*****

Eva?s eyes were closed when Lance pushed through the door.

?Hey girl. Time to wake up.? Lance slapped her hip with one hand through the sheet. Eva feigned sleepiness as she sat up.

?I made breakfast.? Lance set a tray beside her on the bed. There was a plate of pancakes, dusted with sugar, sliced strawberries, a cup of black coffee, and two white tablets in a silver spoon. ?Breakfast in bed for my special girl.?

Eva offered a shaky smile, eyes kept down on the tray. ?Wow.?

?Mmhmm.? Lance reached out and took her chin in his hand, tilting her face up and taking a kiss. His teeth nicked her lower lip as he pulled back.

?Thank you, Lance.? Eva stole a glance at his still bare body. He?d wiped all the blood off his chest, but she could still imagine it there; a stranger?s blood splattered across his skin.

?You?re welcome.? He sat down beside her on the edge of the bed as she sat up and moved the tray to her lap. She reached for the pills first, but Lance took hold of her wrist. ?Eva, I think you should slow down. These are bad for your body, girl. I know what they do.?

Eva met his eyes, trying to keep her hands as still as possible. ?I?m not taking that much.?

?I think you are. You?re not going to get this much from me anymore.?

Eva shook her head. ?I?m okay, Lance, I swear.?

He watched her a moment, and then reached out for her, smoothing out her hair again. He stroked the back of his hand down over her cheek, the hand he'd just used to beat someone's face to pulp. The skin over his knuckles was broken, and Eva could feel the raw skin dragging against her smooth face. ?I don?t want anything to happen to you, special girl.?

?Lance? Lance? I don?t feel well?? Eva slid a hand through Lance?s hair as his tongue left a sticky trail around her belly button above the waist of her underwear. The white lace was old and frayed. Lance?s palm stroked back and forth over the material.

?Just relax girl.?

Eva stared at the ceiling, and tried to do as he asked. Her skin grew clammy. It was near impossible to lay still. It was so white. Everything was so white. She was disappearing. Or everything was closing in.

?Lance?? Eva squeaked plaintively and squirmed on the bed, her chest heaving along with her pumping heart.

?What? What do you want from me, girl?? Lance flopped back on the bed away from her in frustration.

?I can?t breathe. This? this damn room is like?it?s like an asylum Lance? it?s like a cell.? Her breath came shallow and quick. Eva scratched at her neck as if she could tear an opening through it to breathe easier. The room was suffocating her.

Lance propped up on an arm to look at her face and then sat up over her. His face swam uneasily in and out of her vision as she turned her head back and forth.

?I can?t breathe, Lance? I can?t breathe? Lance! LANCE!?

Eva didn?t know that she was screaming, but she was. Her legs jerked. Her heart was going too fast. Something was wrong. There wasn?t enough air in the room.

?Jesus Christ? Eva?? Lance bent over, pushing a hand on her chest, feeling her pulse. She tried to smack him away. He was crushing her. Her arms flailed, her skin smacking against his skin in sweaty collisions. ?Stop it, girl. Stop it. You?re fine.?

She couldn?t hear him anymore. He was moving away. She tried to grab him. She was drowning and he was leaving her. Her back arched off the bed, her head tilted back, thrashing. She couldn?t stop screaming.

She fell from the bed and vomited on the marble floor. Nothing but spit and stomach acid. Her hair dragged through the wet pool, her fingers pulled from its edges as arms came around her and drew her back.

Lance pulled her against him, bracing himself on the floor against the wall. Her legs kicked out towards the bed, but he held her tight to him. He was shouting something, but all she could hear was the rushing of the water in her ears. Eva writhed in his hold, trying to shake free, trying to get to the surface to breathe.

Something big and dark floated towards her and she screamed. Air rushed from her lungs. Giant bubbles escaped from her mouth. Lance held her down. She felt a tightening around her arm. The smack of a hand. She felt a pinch and a prick and finally let her eyes focus on the needle of the syringe.

Sunlight pumped through her veins. She rushed towards the sky. Her lungs opened and filled with air. Everything eased back. Everything was right. She floated on the surface, rocked on the crests of waves. She couldn?t remember the way that sadness felt, or the way that pain felt. She didn?t know the meaning of emptiness. All she could feel was the warmth of the sunlight inside. The cushion of being carried, weightless, on top of the water.

Lance stroked a hand through her damp hair, holding her against him. Her fingers found his arm, and she touched him as she let her body settle. His voice was soft to her ear.

?It?s alright girl. You?re alright.?

?Thank you, Lance. Thank you. Thank you.?

Eva tilted her head towards the bathroom light, and watched her reflection in the mirror as she carefully tied off the last stitch. It had taken her three hours to sew the cut on her face. Her hands kept shaking, and every time she dropped the needle into the bathroom sink she had to sterilize it again.

She was too afraid to go to the emergency room. Afraid of their questions. Afraid of Lance. Better to just do it herself.

Eva looked down at the small first aid kit. Her fingers were red and raw from burning herself trying to sterilize the needle. She needed an antibacterial ointment for her face. If she were lucky, it wouldn't get infected.

?Does it hurt??

Eva jumped, eyes looking up to the mirror. Raj stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders angled into the room, his dark brown eyes fixed on her reflection. As long as Eva had known him, he'd barely spoken two words to her. She knew him simply as Lance's lackey. The one who drove the car, bought her drinks, handed her drugs at the club, did Lance's dirty work. Maybe she'd just been too high to notice him.

?No,? Eva looked back down at the first aid kit, ?I can't feel much.? She drew out the antibacterial ointment and a compress. She still wore the bloodied t-shirt and white lace panties. She imagined Raj behind her, staring at her legs, staring at the way her panties had begun to sag on her hips. Maybe he wanted her. Maybe she could use it. But when she looked up, Raj was no longer in the doorway. The white bathroom walls carried the nebulous shape of his darkness, left behind like an image burned on the inside of her eyelids. She blinked it away.

Eva exhaled softly and went about covering the wound. She'd used navy blue polyester thread she'd found in a sewing kit under the sink for the stitches. It was soft. Maybe too soft. Her immune system would respond to the thread. There would be a scar. So she had planned the placement of each stitch, pulling free any that came out wrong and resewing them. If there was going to be a scar at least let it be straight.

When she was finished she stepped back into the bedroom, a white square bandage eclipsing the left side of her face. Raj stood beside the open closet, folding her clothes into a black duffel bag that she'd never seen before. She watched him for a moment, the precise way he folded each item and placed it in her bag, then reached for something else with his big hands. A stack of clothes was set aside for her on the bed. Jeans. A fresh t-shirt. A zippered, hooded sweatshirt.

She didn't have the energy to ask what he was doing. Instead, Eva sat down on the edge of the bed, and started to dress.

?I can take you somewhere.? Raj glanced back at her over his shoulder.

Eva shrugged. ?I don't know where to go.? She pulled on her jeans, zipping them loosely about her hips, and then sat down again. She couldn't go home. After all that had happened, after everything she'd put Gus through and her father. She couldn't go back to them. Not like this.

She tossed her blood spattered t-shirt to the middle of Lance's pristine white bed. Raj moved to reach for it, but Eva spoke up.

?Leave it.?

He simply nodded and left it there, the blood starting to dry a rusty brown.

Raj zipped up the duffel bag, and slung it up on his shoulder as Eva got to her feet to follow him.

In the car, Eva's head rattled against the passenger side window as they bounced over potholes. Raj drove in silence. The orange street lights brightened his face in a regular rhythm, like a slow strobe. She didn't know where they were going and he didn't tell her. What did it matter? She'd stay with him if that's what he wanted. He could keep the drugs coming her way, keep her in the sunshine.

They were headed downtown. A part of the city Eva didn't recognize. Shadowed figures hovered in alleys and slept in doorways. Prostitutes moved towards the curb as they passed hoping Raj would slow down, but then backing away when they saw her in the window. A patrol car flicked its lights and barreled past them through a red light. Eva watched the colors pass over Raj's impassive face.

She'd need a bump soon. Hopefully he had something on him. Eva closed her eyes and played with the zipper on her sweatshirt.

Raj slowed the car to a stop, pulling over to the curb. She lifted her head from the window and looked out. Just across the street on the corner a group of prostitutes looked over hopefully, one separating herself and starting towards them. Eva's stomach dropped and clenched. Is that what Raj wanted? He wanted her to turn tricks for him?

Eva looked down at her clothes, the clothes he had set out for her. Jeans and a sweatshirt. And she had the bandage on her face. He could hardly expect her to pick anyone up like this. It made sense though. Maybe it was a side business. Something he was doing without Lance knowing. Some extra cash. Eva tugged on the zipper of her sweatshirt. Is that what she was becoming? A hooker? She sat still in the silence, refusing to move, refusing to be the first to speak. If that's what he wanted then he would have to say it. Outside the car, the prostitute bent over and peered in, her cleavage perfectly framed in the window.

?Hey, sweet thing.? The prostitute's voice was muffled as she knocked on the window. Raj made a subtle rolling gesture with his hand on the steering wheel, and the prostitute stood up, turning to move on. ?Jerk.?

Eva squirmed in her seat, sinking down a bit. After a few moments of tense silence, she finally looked over to find Raj staring at her. Without a word, he pointed with one lazy finger out the windshield. Eva followed with her eyes across the street. A row of businesses stood in darkness, some with locked metal grates covering their doors. Eva could make out just one lit sign. New Dawns Substance Abuse Rehabilitation Center.

Eva broke like a house of cards, collapsing in on herself as a sob finally broke free from her throat. Tears welled to her eyes and fell over, down her face. She turned away from Raj in the seat and covered her face, trying to stop the tears from soaking the surgical tape, trying to stop him from watching. She felt it all in a rush like a tidal wave breaking over her, crushing her beneath its unbearable weight. She cried for her son, for her husband, for the father who'd tried so hard to protect her, for the waste that her life had become, for the remains of her body, for the kindness of the near stranger who sat beside her. And she cried because she still wanted to get high.

Eva cried until there was nothing left but silent heaves and sobs. Then her breath slowed and her body calmed, like a field of wheat after a strong wind. Quiet. Still.

Raj released the car door, the overhead light turning on and a muted dinging breaking the silence. Eva opened her side of the car and stood to meet him. From the trunk, Raj picked up the duffel bag with her clothes.

?You ready?? He stood next to her, waiting patiently.

Eva looked across the street towards the rehab's dimly lit door, then nodded. ?Yes.?