The storm had passed by and left brilliant blue sky above. Amanda sat up in bed staring out the window. Her memory had surfaced in bits and pieces as the storm had raged last night.



For some reason she didn't mind the sun. For sure the she thought she would never again appreciate the sun-drenched landscape, but the post storm brightness was a welcome sight.



Unfortunately, she now remembered almost all of her captivity. The pain and torture followed by the degradation kept her wincing. Maybe that's why she liked the sun, something to chase away the dreadful memories.



Part of her wished she didn't remember. Another part wished she had died out there on the ocean. If only...



The world wouldn't be kind. People would want to know what had happened. Questions would be asked. Interviewers would probe. Someone in law enforcement or at the hospital would leak the information.



She felt tears trickle down her cheeks. How had she been so stupid? She knew strangers were dangerous, but fun had been the only thing on her mind.



Someone had sent her pictures of him with that bimbo. Randall had sworn the photos were fake but she didn't know what to believe.



The days on the boat had brought her some perspective. Even if the photo's had been faked, their relationship wasn't going anywhere. They were over. She should have seen it earlier, but Randall had been easy. Easy to look at, easy to guide and direct, and easy to get rid of.



She doubted if she would ever trust again. The lack of judgment she'd displayed by getting on the boat with a guy she didn't even know had her stumped. What the hell had she been thinking?



She wished the FBI agent would come back. Maybe she could discuss the events with him. Maybe he could help her see where she'd gone wrong.



The door swung open and Amanda jumped.



"Sorry sweetie, I didn't mean to scare you. I need to take your vitals."



Amanda tried to speak, but her voice gave out before she could complete the first syllable. That was another thing that had her freaked out. Her voice wasn't worth crap. Sometimes she could carry a conversation, other's it was hard to even speak. Of course all the conversations she'd had were whispered, but she could still communicate. Right now it felt like someone was holding a razor blade at her voice box.



"It's okay darling, no need to talk." The nurse loomed over her, her height forcing her to bend low just to take Amanda's temperature. The blood pressure cuff grew tight as the nurse pumped it full of air.



The relief Amanda felt with her anonymity was palpable. If the doctors and nurses knew who she was, how bad would it be? Eventually someone would recognize her, but for now she enjoyed being nobody.



"You seem better. You're blood pressure is still up, but not as bad as yesterday. Temp's still high. I guess you have a few more days to put up with our hospitality, or lack of it." The nurse threw back her head and laughed.



Amanda wished she felt as carefree. She smiled and tried to speak a response but nothing came out. The lack of voice annoyed the heck out of her. Eventually she would need to seek out a specialist. Maybe the condition was temporary. Really, she didn't want to think about how bad life would be if she could never sing again. Making music with her voice and performing in front of others was the essence of Amanda. Taking that away would ruin everything.



The thought of having to rework her entire life scared her. Maybe it was time to hang up the mic and take up a new roll. Tears formed in her eyes, she swiped them away. Crying was for wimps, and she couldn't afford to wimp out right now. Her future depended on her being strong.

Copyright Sara Thacker