"We're losing her!," the doctor yelled as she rushed frantically around. Their patient, Jamey Farrell, was a young woman – a young mother – who had tried to commit suicide at her workplace. No one at the hospital knew why, or had stopped to contemplate why she would try to take her own life.

"She's lost too much blood," a nurse called out whilst desperately trying to attach a new bag of blood to the IV in the hope that they could save the young woman.

"Where's the crash cart?," the doctor shouted, as she manually performed CPR on Jamey, but it was too late. The small group of doctors and nurses assembled around the bed were silent. It always hurt to lose a patient, but when that patient was young, when that patient was a parent or a child, the pain was unbearable.

Jamey groaned as she felt the pain in her wrists. Gently tracing her finger down one of the fresh scars, she noticed that she wasn't in CTU anymore. Looking around, she noticed she was surrounded by people she recognised.

"Dad?," she spoke, her raw throat making her voice raspy.

"¿ Si, mi querida?," he replied, his Mexican accent evident.

"Where am I?," she asked, but deep down, she already knew.

"I am not really here, noone is. You have just a few minutes left before your existence must come to an end, Jamey," he replied, and Jamey had to fight hard to stop herself from crying. Although she wasn't the most devout Catholic, she still believed in Heaven and Hell, and to be told that her soul was mortal like the rest of her was devastating. She looked around the small crowd of people, pleading with her eyes for one of them to offer her an alternative. Once she had seen everyone's eyes, she decided not to fight it, hoping that she would at least enjoy the last minutes of blissful conciousness before she faded.

"I didn't kill myself, I was murdered. Killed by someone I thought of as a friend, a trusted co-worker," she said aloud. She remembered nothing after the taser was pushed into her skin, but she wasn't stupid, she knew that the scars could only have been made after she was knocked out.

"They will be caught, and punished," an elderly woman, Jamey's grandmother, said. She said this not out of certainty, but because the universe required balance.

"I will miss my beautiful son, mi amada hijo," she whispered to herself, her eyes wet with tears.

"Jamey, it is time to go," her father spoke, his voice sorrowful. Jamey looked at him, nodding slowly. She smiled at him as she laid back and closed her eyes. As her eyelids met, the darkness came and Jamey Farrell was no more.