Two women sat opposite each other in a small, sterile office. One was slipping into a white overall; the other wore a white gown. Their voices broke the quiet room.
   “Doctor, how is she?” Mrs. Julie asked, her worry evident in her trembling voice.
   “Calm down, Mrs. Julie. She’s stable,” the doctor reassured gently. “We’ve completed a blood transfusion. Now, all she needs is time to heal.”
   “How long are we talking about?”
   The doctor sighed, the weight of the answer heavy. “I can’t say for sure. She’s been raped so many times that her private parts were nearly torn off.”
   Mrs. Julie’s face twisted in disgust. “Damn it. Who could have done such a thing?”
   “If we want to find that out, she needs to regain consciousness as soon as possible,” said the doctor, turning toward her computer. “How long can you stay?”
   “Maybe two days. I’ll have to call my workplace for permission, though.”
   “Please do. And can you wait in the next room? If there’s any change, you’ll be notified immediately,” the doctor said, gesturing toward the adjacent door.
   “All right. Thank you.” Mrs. Julie stood, exiting toward the next room.
***
     Just as Mrs. Julie left the hospital with the injured woman recently at her doorstep, four boys in hoodies arrived at the apartment one after another — Grandwalker among them.
   After intensively searching every corner of the place, Grandwalker pulled out his phone and called Twist.
   “What do you mean she’s not home?” Twist barked into the receiver. “Search every damn inch!”
   “We have. No one seems to be…” Grandwalker's words were cut off as someone approached the door outside.
   “I know you’re in there. Come out and identify yourself, whoever you are,” a man in a Watchers uniform demanded, pistol pointed at the door. “You have three seconds before I pull the trigger.”
   *3...* He shouted 
   *2...*
   *1...*
   At the count of one, the boys burst out of the door. Without hesitation, the man fired — the bullet hitting Grandwalker's left abdomen.
   The other three dodged the spray of bullets as they escaped the compound.
   Grandwalker uncovered his mouth to exhale properly, gasping for breath. The man swiftly handcuffed him.
   Minutes later, police arrived, taking Grandwalker to the station before contacting Mrs. Julie.
***
At the hospital, Mrs. Julie’s mind wrestled with worry over the patient. When the police called, she hesitated, torn between her duty and the new crisis. Eventually, exhaustion claimed her and she fell asleep.
***
   The next morning, something unsettled her.
   She remembered her recent abduction. Too many questions lingered unanswered. Without pause, she bolted from her room. The clock read 7:05 a.m., but urgency outweighed time. She hailed a cab for the police station.
   Minutes later, she arrived and waited until the station officially opened.
   The police officer in charge summarized the situation.
   “May I ask the culprit some questions?” Mrs. Julie requested.
   “About what?”
   “Nothing specific. I’m just trying to understand why these people are targeting me.”
   “What do you mean by that?”
   “Actually, I was kidnapped recently and released without any ransom. Something’s going on, and I want to know what.”
   “You think it’s a miracle?”
   “No one else seems to. Anyway, do you mind?”
   “Not at all. Follow me.”
   They passed several cells before stopping at one where a man lay face down, his belly heavily bandaged.
   “Was he shot?” Mrs. Julie asked.
   “They were escaping. He rushed out first and took a bullet,” the officer said, unlocking the door. “Don’t pity him—we’re talking about the ruthless 18th Street gang. Hey, come out.”
   Grandwalker slowly turned around. When his face came into view, Mrs. Julie gasped. “Ke… Kelvin! No, this can’t be.”
   “Sorry, ma’am. Do you know this man?” the officer asked, puzzled.
   “He’s… my ex-colleague,” she replied, still struggling to comprehend the scene. “Kelvin, tell me what’s happening.”
   Kelvin remained silent, turning back to face the wall.
   “Ma’am, can we have a little chat?” the officer asked as he led her toward his office.
***
   “So, he was your ex-colleague? For how long?”
   “Around two years before I got married.”
   “Had you noticed anything strange about him?”
   “Not until recently. I was being followed late at night. I hid behind a building, and out of nowhere, he appeared, saying the boss had sent him to walk me home.”
   “You didn’t report this?”
   “No. I was abducted immediately after I got home. When I was released, my husband was in the hospital. Seeing him was my only priority.”
   “What else was suspicious?”
   “Nothing concrete, but the last time Kelvin visited, my husband treated him harshly.”
   “Do you think your husband knows something?”
   “My husband is a night watcher. Maybe he’s seen men like him before.”
   “That’s no guarantee, though. Can I meet your husband?”
   “Not right now. He was transferred to a new branch in Compton.”
   “Compton?” the officer exclaimed. “Why transfer a married man to such a dangerous place?”
   “I asked him the same. He said it was a choice: accept the transfer or quit. You can talk to him when he returns.”
   “When will that be?”
   “Sometime tomorrow or the next day.”
   “Alright. When was the last time you contacted Kelvin?”
   “I haven’t been able to reach him since his last visit.”
   “Okay. You may leave for now. When your husband returns, contact me. I’ll update you after the interrogation.”
   “Thank you.”
***
   Mrs. Julie took a cab back to the hospital.
   Upon arrival, a nurse informed her the patient had regained consciousness. Eager to see her, Mrs. Julie hurried to the room.
   Inside, the doctor, nurse, and woman sat waiting.
   The woman was short, with blonde hair and wrinkled skin.
   “Try to remember anything — your name, the last thing you saw,” the doctor urged, sitting beside her.
   “Doctor, has she said anything?” Mrs. Julie asked anxiously.
   “She seems to have slight amnesia,” the doctor explained, waiting for a response.
   “I really can’t remember anything,” the woman murmured.
   “Is there any medication that could help restore her memories?”
   “There is, but it’s better if she’s around people close to her,” the doctor replied, standing. “For now, healing comes first. Follow me.”
   Mrs. Julie and the doctor returned to the office.
   “Mrs. Julie, our tests detected some drugs in her system. She might be a drug dealer. Her heart is severely damaged — she has maybe two to five years left to live.”
   “Is there no solution?”
   “We could perform a heart transplant, but it’s costly. If you can afford it, register quickly — the procedure can be done pronto.”
   “I’m sorry, but I don’t have ‘a lot of money’,” Mrs. Julie said, standing abruptly. “Can I speak to her?”
   “Of course.”
***
   Back in the patient’s room, Mrs. Julie sat near the bed, watching the woman who stared blankly out the window.
   “Brock,” the woman whispered.
   “Huh?”
   “That’s my husband’s name.”
......