How far out can you get before there's no turning back?

I groaned groggily as I opened my eyes. I saw nothing but white: white ceilings, white floors, white walls, and white bedding. I was in a hospital. I started to pull myself up using my arms and winced as pain lanced through my arms.

Then I remember what had happened. Kayla. The gun. Kayla shooting me with the gun. I shook my head to try to dispel the memories and started to pull myself up on my good arm. The door opened and a woman in a white coat walked in.

“How are you doing Ms. Willow?” the doctor asked nicely.

“Fine,” I croaked out, my voice ragged from not being used. “How long have I been out?” I asked.

“Oh, about eight hours,” the doctor replied. She then began to check the monitors and wires hooked up to my arm.

While she was doing that another person walked in, this time the person was a man. He looked to be around his late forties to early fifties with salt and pepper hair and brown eyes. He was carrying a ragged, beat up, old back pack with him when he approached my bed.

“Hello Ms. Willow, I am detective Rainer, I was sent here to ask you a few questions about what happened, is that okay?” I nodded my head, so the detective went on. “Tell me what happened when you were shot,” he said.

I went through the whole story of what had happened with Kayla and the gun. How I had seen her outside the house and had seen her pointing the gun at me. Then how I had fainted after being shot.

“Well I’ve got some good news; we have Kayla in police custody,”

My eyes widened in surprise, they caught Kayla I thought.

Feelings of relief and joy passed through me, it must of showed on my face too because the detective smiled and said, “I have this back pack, it’s Kayla’s feel free to look through it if you like,“ then he laid the back pack on my lap and left.

The doctor had left during the conversation so I was alone in the room. Hesitantly I picked up the pack and opened it, it was relatively empty except for a few things: a pack of matches, some change, and lint pretty much summed up the contents of the bag.

Then I looked again I noticed a pocket I had missed when I was inspecting the bag. I opened the pocket and inside was a photo. The picture was old and crinkled as if it had been handled many times over the years. There were three people in the picture, all smiling. There was a woman, a man, and a small child that couldn’t have been older than three in front of them.

The woman had a startling resemblance to Kayla and I realized with a shock that the picture must be of Kayla’s family.

So the little girl in the picture was … Kayla I thought, completely surprised.

The door started to open right then so I crammed everything back in the back pack.

The detective walked in and still to this day I can’t explain why I did what I did, but just as the detective came up to my bed I cried out “Can I see her?” The detective got a confused look across his face so I clarified myself. “Can I see Kayla?”

The detective seemed shocked he opened his mouth and said “But why would you-“

I cut him off with a raised hand. I didn’t know why I wanted to see Kayla I just did. As the detective saw the hard determination on my face he nodded and began the actions necessary to get me to the police department.

Within twenty minutes I was standing outside of the door of the interrogation room that Kayla was being held in. I let out my breath and then opened the door.

“What are you doing here?”