Trigger Warning: Some readers may find the discussion about sexual assault in this chapter to be triggering. Please read at your own discretion.

Sarah awoke to a faint beeping. Squinting into a fluorescent glare, she saw tubes running from her body to nearby machines where digital numbers tracked her heart rate and blood pressure, while a thin, green line drew her lifeline. The air was also cold and smelled of disinfectant.

"She's awake! Nurse, come. She's awake." Jane's excited voice drew Sarah's attention across the room just in time to see her aunt bolt upright out of a plastic side chair.

Within seconds, an older woman in light blue scrubs rushed through the open door. "Welcome back, my dear. We were beginning to think you didn't want to leave the extra heavy sleep we gave you," she said, adjusting the bed to a more upright position before pulling out her stethoscope.

"What . . . what is she talking about?" Sarah croaked, only just then noticing how dry her mouth had become. How long was she out, she wondered.

Jane smiled uneasily and stepped closer to pat her niece's hand. "It's nothing to worry about now, but the doctors had to briefly put you into an induced coma," she said.

Sarah shook her head. None of this made sense. The last thing she remembered was being with Caleb at the Fall Festival. So how was she waking up now in the hospital?

"A coma?" she repeated, as if that would make the revelation fall into context.

The nurse moved the stethoscope from Sarah's front to her back and continued to listen. It mustn't have been too exciting, because she joined the conversation. "You were brought in three days ago with critical hypothermia. The length of exposure to the cold put your risk of brain damage high enough to warrant extreme measures in your treatment," she said.

"I . . . I could have brain damage?" Sarah asked as her stomach contracted from a sudden burst of nausea.

The nurse draped the stethoscope back around her neck and stroked Sarah's hair. "There was a remote possibility, but we've done scans while you were asleep to confirm that everything in here . . .," she said, patting Sarah's skull. "Is as good as before. Everything we can see, that is," she added with a smile.

This knowledge made Sarah feel a bit better, but she still had other concerns. "I was out for three days?" she asked.

"That's correct," said a new voice from the doorway. When Jane moved aside, Sarah could see that Officer Alex Quinn had joined them. With their legs spread and their hands on their police utility belt, they looked more serious than Sarah had ever seen them. Striding closer, they continued. "Which is why I need to speak with you as soon as you're up to it."

An inexplicable feeling of guilt overtook her, and Sarah tried to push herself up to an even more pronounced sitting position. But even that tiny movement made her entire body ache.

"Whoa, whoa. Take it easy," said the nurse in an attempt to keep her down. "You can't rush this."

"But I need to know what happened," Sarah replied, anger replacing guilt. It felt as if everyone else knew more than she did, and it left her vulnerable and that just made her even more scared.

Quinn sighed. "As do I," they said before turning to Jane. "As Sarah Corwin's current legal guardian, do you agree to let me speak with her in an official capacity?"

Jane drew the tip of her tongue between her lips in contemplation. Grabbing Quinn by the arm, she looked them in the eyes and quietly asked, "You'd let me know if there was a reason I shouldn't, right?"

Quinn nodded. "I swear that I would. But you have nothing to worry about. Sarah is the victim in this situation."

"The victim?" Sarah asked, shocked at the use of the word. "What the hell happened to me, Aunt Jane? You need to tell me."

Quinn motioned for Jane and the nurse to leave. "It's best if we first try to find out what you remember, Sarah. If we could just have some time alone to discuss everything that happened on the night of October twenty-ninth—"

"Why don't you ask Caleb Ceballos? I was with him on Saturday and he should be able to tell you everything," she said as soon as the door shut, leaving them alone.

Quinn drew the chair up to the bedside, spun it around and straddled it. "I know that you were with Caleb. And I did ask him to tell me what happened after the two of you left the Fall Fest and before you were found hours later, half-frozen in Bedlam Woods, which is the time period in question that is still rather hazy for all of us," they said, leaning their elbows on the backrest.

Sarah raised a brow when they didn't continue. "And?"

"And Caleb remained silent, invoking his Fifth Amendment privileges."

She gasped. There must have been a reasonable explanation on how she got lost in the snow. There had to be. But taking the Fifth was for the guilty. "Why would he do that?" she asked as the numbers on the heart monitor climbed up with each beat.

Quinn scowled. "It was no doubt based on the advice of the very expensive attorney from Boston that his parents hired," they said, the frustration evident in their voice.

Sarah closed her eyes, the deluge of information almost too much for her to process. She needed a moment to think, but she wasn't even sure what all there was to consider. And maybe, that was the key. There was definitely no way she was going to speculate and make Caleb falsely look guilty for anything.

"Okay," she said, looking back up again. "I get that you want to have the full picture of how I ended up here, but I promise you that I cannot for the life of me remember anything after leaving the fortune teller's tent and waking up here ten minutes ago. Maybe it'll come to me eventually, at which point I will make sure I tell you everything."

"I appreciate that, Sarah, I really do," Quinn said. "But it is imperative that you try—"

"I don't remember, okay!?" she yelled, slamming her hands on the bed beside her as tears welled up in her eyes. "What's the big deal, anyway? Everyone's seen Law and Order. Attorneys tell their clients to avoid talking to the police so they don't get falsely incriminated. I probably should stop talking to you right now, too."

Quinn steepled their fingers in front of their mouth. "I didn't want to tell you like this, Sarah, but this is a very big deal. You see . . . based on the circumstances of your location and the identity of your last known contact, the hospital's procedures required them to prepare the collection of a sexual assault kit."

They paused, waiting for Sarah's reaction, but she had none. She was too numb.

"It was positive, Sarah, meaning—"

"Meaning that I had sex Saturday night, nothing more," she said, not even wanting to consider the alternative. Even though she couldn't remember, it had to have been consensual. It was Caleb, after all. And she liked him.

"But if you don't remember—"

"I was in a forced coma for three days, Officer Quinn. Maybe you should interrogate the hospital about their right to do that, huh? Instead of making wild accusations about me and the high school quarterback that could ruin both of our futures," she said, angrier than ever.

Quinn sighed again before standing.

"There is one more thing that you should know, and then I'll go without asking any more questions," they said, dark circles rimming their eyes as the fluorescent lights threw their shade.

"Go ahead," she said, biting her lip to steel herself. It had to be worse than an allegation of rape to hold it until last. But what the hell could have been that bad?

Quinn took a deep breath and began. "The hospital also runs a basic toxicology panel in all cases where the patient comes in immobilized, and as suspected, yours wasn't quite clean."

Sarah shook her head. "I didn't drink or do drugs, I swear."

"And I believe you," Quinn said, taking her hand while looking straight into her eyes. "Rohypnol in the US is very rarely taken voluntarily, as it isn't currently approved for medical use."

Sarah's breathing became shallow and her head spun. "Rohypnol as in roofies? The date rape drug?" she asked, as things finally began to fall into place.

Quinn nodded. "That's right. My suspicion is that whoever assaulted you slipped it into your drink not much beforehand to make their job easier. It causes enough lack of inhibition and in many instances black-out memory loss to cover alibis and avoid prosecution."

She was now seconds from throwing up. "And you think it was—"

"Caleb Ceballos. Yes. So now you see why it's crucial that you remember everything you can."