After a sharp pain in her back everything went black. She had no idea how long the darkness surrounded her, sense of time was gone. Maybe she was dead? How did it feel when you are dead?

What did happen to her? She was on scene, suddenly somebody yelled, something about an unknown suspect in the room upstairs. She was in the middle of the stairs, looked up and the only and last thing she saw was a dark shadow. And the pain.

Somewhere she heard a voice. Female. So many words. All sounded the same, made no sense to her. Was this woman talking to her? The voice didn't sound familiar. Whatever the woman wanted, she had to wait. If Sara was dead this woman had to wait longer for an answer – or forever. And if she wasn't dead, or not dead yet, she had to wait anyway. Sara had no time for a chat, she was tired, she was…wasn't herself.

For a long time she was in a place without sound. Only darkness. But no more pain. Death? Somewhere in between? On her way back? If she was dead, would she see herself laying on a bed? In a casket? Who would come to her funeral? There was no family, barely any friends. Her colleagues. The only people who were close to her, who would miss her. Maybe her bartender too. After all these nights they spent together, he worked while she drank and tried to forgot all her problems. So many problems. From the past. The present. The future. Perhaps death was a redemption. Nobody annoyed you anymore, nobody forced you to do things you didn't want to do, nobody rub salt in old wounds, made them painful and bleed again. Yes, death wasn't that bad.

"Sara."

What? Wasn't it possible to think? Even when you're dead people seemed not to respect that you needed some time for yourself. In case she was on her way to heaven, they could let her wait outside the big gate for a while, leave her in peace. She wasn't in a hurry to get her cloud and sit around between other people, staring down on the earth. And if she was on her way to hell they could wait too. At their fire places and have their barbecue without her.

"Come on, wake up. I know you can hear me, wake up. Please."

Yes, she could hear her, so what? Wake up? She wasn't asleep, she was dead. A little time and space for the deaths please.

"Come on, don't give up fighting. Wake up. You can do it."

Of course she could. But why would she? If they annoyed her while she was dead what would they do when she was alive? Who was this woman anyway? It wasn't Cath. Nor Wendy or Mandy. Why would they be at her funeral talking to her anyway? The only one she expected to cry for her was Greg. Oh Greggo. Her only true friend. There hadn't been the chance to hug him one more time. Tell him how important he was to her. How much his friendship meant to her. Too late.

"Screw it, Sara, that's not fair. Get your damn eyes open and look at me. Remember Saturday? Come on, I know you remember."

Saturday? What was…oh yes. Saturday. She had been out, had the night off. The club she went in, the first time ever. It was fun. Great music, so many possibilities to dance. A lot of great cocktails. And there was…that was where she knew this voice from. Dancing, drinking and ending up in somebody else's apartment. Probably the first time that she had sex with somebody she met on the same evening since college. What was her name again? Were you supposed to remember after one night?

"Jules." Yes, that was her name…did she say out the name loud? At least it sounded like her voice. A little bit hoarse, like she ate sandpaper.

"Yes, exactly. I knew you'd remember. Come on, open your eyes, I want to see into your eyes, Sara. Please. For me. One look."

Open her eyes? It was so nice with closed eyes. Then again she liked Jules's eyes and a short peek in them couldn't be wrong, could it? Nice brown. Like hazelnuts. A cute smile, a little dent on the chin, dark brown hair, not long enough to touch her shoulders and too long to be short. She was tall, Sara remembered she had to look up to look into the eyes of the woman she danced with for hours. Only a bit. Two inches, maybe three. Skinny. Not model like skinny, they might weight the same only that Jules was taller. A good sense of humor and a warm laughter. Yes, it was worth to open your eyes for her.

Light. A lot of light. Too bright. It hurt.

"Come on Sara, one more try. You're almost there."

Talking about being here. What was Jules doing here? How did she find out that Sara was here? Where was here? Somehow she got the feeling here wasn't at her funeral. Here was somewhere else. Where? Bright lights. Strange smell. Something beeped. Again and again. It was annoying. Being dead was nicer than coming back. No silence in life.

"Sara."

Hands. There were hands around her hand. She felt them, felt the touch.

"Jules."

"Yes, I hear you. I can hear you Sara, do you hear me too?"

Apparently she had to accept she wasn't dead. She was…had been unconscious. So there was no reason not to open her eyes and go somewhere…somewhere without these beeps. Open eyes could be a good start.

"Too bright."

"There you are."

Yes, here she was. In a room with too much light and a very much worried looking in front of her.

"Fuck." Hospital. She was in hospital. Of course. If she had been unconscious they got her here. Well, they had their fun, now she was back and it was time to go. When she tried to get up she realized she didn't move. No matter how often she sent the order to move, her legs didn't move. They stayed exactly where they were. Did they give her so much medicine that she wasn't able to move anymore? No question she'd make them pay for that.

"I'm glad you're back."

"Where am I?"

"Desert Palms."

"I want to leave." The look on Jules's face told her this wish would be denied.

"Sara…"

"No! That's not a wish, it's a request. I hate hospitals and I won't stay here. Call the doctor, let him give me the form I need to sign and I'm out of here."

"Sara…"

"I won't discuss this, Jules. Doctor."

"Okay." Jules sighed and pressed the button next to Sara's bed. "How do you feel?"

"Like newborn."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"The past is over, it doesn't matter what did happen, what matter is what will happen and that's I'll leave."

The doctor came inside. "You're awake Miss Sidle, that's good."

"Tell me about it. I want the form to sign so I can leave."

He looked at Jules. "I need you to leave the room, please. You have been here longer than you were supposed and…"

"I know. Sorry." Jules got up. "I'll be back, Sara."

"Don't bother, I won't be here any longer. I see you around, Jules."

"Yeah." The eyes of the other women didn't look like she believed Sara's words. Well, she would get to know Sara's stubborn mind. And her antipathy for hospitals.

"Miss Sidle…"

"Cut through the chase, doctor. I wanna go home."

"You can't."

"The last time I checked the United States of America were free and you can choose where you wanna be. I wanna be home."

"I'm sorry you need to stay longer."

"No."

"Miss Sidle, would you please get up."

"Sure." She intended to get up and leave. With the support of her arms she sat up and… nothing. Her legs didn't move a bit. Nothing. Desperately she tried to get up and found herself still in the same position. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with her legs?

"What the fuck is going on?"

"I'm sorry to tell you that at the moment you're paralyzed."

"What do you mean with paralyzed?" Why couldn't she be dead? Death seemed to be a better alternative to what life gave her. Especially after it got worse and worse every day.

"You fell down a flight of stairs and there are some nerves in your back that got temporarily damaged. We will…"

"I don't want to hear this."

"Miss Sidle…"

"No! No more words. Leave me alone. I'm tired."

"It's important for you to understand…"

Sara let herself fell back into the pillow, closed her eyes and did, what she had learnt as a little child. She closed her eyes and left the room. When her body wasn't able to move, her mind was. Like when she was five she took the mind plane, how she had called it, and took off. Somewhere else. Somewhere without problems, hospitals, doctors. Back to what she remembered last as a nice place: death. Why wasn't she dead?