Lord what happened. Why am I here?
Charity’s memory of what had happened to land her in the hospital was nothing but fuzz.
All she knew was that she did not feel anything below her waist.
Something was very wrong. Charity knew that much.
She knew something was very, very wrong.
She just didn’t know what it was, how to put it in words at that particular moment.
Charity just knew that something had happened she knew too that she couldn’t let this set her back for too long.
She had a book to write, an editor was breathing down her back.
Sure he would probably understand this, and give her some extra time, but Charity did not want any favors. She did not work on favors, her writing stood out on its own.
Charity did not have time for this, whatever this was. She remembered nothing of what landed her in the hospital, not at the moment.
The memories may never come back, Charity did not know, but she knew something had happened. She knew that whatever it was that had happened was not good.
Something good wouldn’t have landed her at the hospital.
The last thing she remembered before she woke up in the hospital was getting ready for a book signing, something her publisher had set up for her.
Something had went very wrong after that, something that landed her in the hospital, but she still did not know what that something was.
No one seemed to want to tell her anything.
Why did she feel like she had been shot?
Why would she be shot? All she did was write, writing wasn’t some dangerous profession was it?
If someone didn’t like what she wrote, they did not have to read it?
She had threats before, but nothing like this.
No one had ever threatened to shoot her, at least not that she remembered.
Maybe she had gotten a few threatening letters, but they were mild and vague threats compared to this.
Charity wished someone would tell her something, but nothing was being said. It was as if everyone was trying to hide something for her, but she did not know what.