"Clara, my love, how are you feeling?" Edward asked me with wide sorrowful eyes. I stretched and yawned. Where was I? I saw a small room painted with white walls. No, it was a curtain. There was an elliptical curtain around my bed and Edward was in it. There was a white tray suspended next to me, laden with various sorts of medical looking tools. "Clara, can you remember anything?"
I did, or thought I did. I remembered Edward's black shiny automobile. I remember putting my head out the window and letting my golden hair stream back from my face in the wind. I remembered a man, a tall dark man from the street watching me with disdainful eyes. I remembered him running toward me and Edward crying "NO!" The rest was black. "Clara, say something," Edward pleaded. "Please?"
"Edward, darling, where am I?"
"Oh Clara!" He exclaimed. "I thought you would never wake up."
"Yes dear, I'm happy to see you too. But what happened?"
He proceeded to tell me this: We had been driving in his automobile, when the man from the street caught up to Edward and I with amazing speed. He had done something to me, said some words in Latin or another foreign language and disappeared. Meanwhile, I was slumped in the automobile's seat, unconscious. Edward had been frantic; he had found a doctor who had taken me to the hospital. Just then, my doctor came in the room. He smelled clean.
"Hello Clara Windsor, I'm Dr. Marks. We have something to tell you about your condition. I'm afraid you--"