The beeping of a monitor brings me back to reality, fluids are being pumped into my veins, my chest aches with every breath; who and where am I? I can’t remember who I am, where I live, or how long I’ve been here, but I do know how I got here. It was a beautiful autumn day. The leaves full of vibrant colors reflected my joy. As I walk through the park everything is quiet. The occasional whistling of a crisp breeze was all that could be heard. As I ready my mind for the day ahead of me I noticed that someone had been following me. Continuing my walk he or she remained quiet. I began to get suspicious and a fast pace walk soon became a sprint. I ran out of the park and huffing and puffing a quick glance behind me confirmed that my stalker was gone. Catching my breath I sat on a nearby bench and received a few awkward glances from passerbies. What could I say, after all I was running around the park in a black business suit. When by breaths became even again I got up, smoothed my hair down and began my walk to work again. I looked at my watch and sighed, I was going to be late for work if I went the normal route. I stopped in front of an alley, if I went down it I would save at least five minutes. The decision was difficult being that I was just chased out of a park but soon I made up my mind that the alley was the way that I would go. After all it could have been a runner. Halfway down the alley the sound of feet beating the pavement behind me made my heart flutter. As I walk faster and faster the swift footsteps got closer and closer. Grabbed from behind my mouth is covered and my stalker wraps his arms around me making it impossible for me to fight back. In that dark alley I receive a brutal beating. One punch, then another, another, another, they keep coming until I can’t count them anymore. Just when I think that my stalker has left, something tightens around my neck pulling me towards my grave. As life leaves my body, my stalker whispers in my ear “this for what you did to me”. Then the sunlight fades away with my life. Why and how I’m alive is a mystery. When I should be rotting in my grave I’m alive and recovering.

People begin to flood the room where I lay, some with tears in their eyes others with looks of happiness. People with white coats begin to turn knobs and push buttons on monitors that are attached to me by tubes and wires. Thankful family members collect at my bedside and all I can ask is who did this to me?