Clair aspired to grow up to be a nurse. She would place her dolls in a row along a wall, in her bedroom, as a waiting area to treat their ailments. She treated coughs, mended broken bones, cured headaches, and delivered babies for her dolls. It annoyed her mother how many bandaids she would use on her dolls that they would not have any in the house. She did not shy away from blood and if anyone was injured, she eagerly bobbed up and down, wanting to help. She was a kind and loving girl who wanted to help people get better and felt sad when she saw people sick.
  After high school, she married her high school sweetheart, Earl, whom she loved dearly. They lived together in a cozy apartment that she decorated and became vibrant to her. Upon completion of her nursing degree, the hospital of her choice accepted her to work in the emergency room.
Her dream became her life, but it turned into her nightmare. She didn’t realize she would also deal with the aftermath of violence. Clair had seen so many people with stabbed wounds, gunshot wounds, and bruised from attacks and assault. She did her best to do her work and treat the person as quickly and effectively as she could, but afterwards, the trauma set in. At times, she had panic attacks and would hide in the bathroom to get past them. No one told her it would be like this. She could not believe there was so much violence in the world.
  She had no one to talk to about these things. Everyone was so proud of her becoming a nurse and she didn’t want to upset them and tell them she could not handle it. This is also all she wanted to do. She did not know what other profession to pursue. There was also the money she earned and the tuition debt she had to settle. Clair, also, still loved her job of dealing with the more medical complications and diagnosing illnesses. It was not all bad, she had her good days and proud moments. She realized she really just needed to transfer out of the emergency room. After approaching human resources to move her into another department, they informed her there were no openings. Also, she had not been there that long enough to be considered over other candidates from outside the hospital who had more experience.
  After the recurring nightmares started, she checked the lock doors at least three times before going to bed. Most of the time, she slept with the lights on. She felt like she was getting more used to the violence and dealing with it, but she didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.
One day, she realized she was not coping with it as much as she thought she was. She saw something in the emergency room that freaked her out. It was a detached finger someone had brought in. She did not know why, but she wanted to run out of the hospital screaming. A coworker saw something in her eyes and they put a hand on her arm.
  “Are you ok?” asked the coworker. Clair recovered from the rising fear and looked at her coworker and nodded. Clair was still new to the job, and she wanted to make a good impression on her coworkers. That she could handle it like everyone else that worked there.
That night her husband woke her up in a dead of sleep.
  “Clair… Clair! Are you ok?” Earl asked.
  “I’m fine… what is wrong?” Clair asked him.
  “You don’t know?” he asked her. She looked at him puzzled and he answered her puzzled look.   “Honey, you were screaming.” She did not believe him at first.
  It did not stop there. The next night, she woke him up screaming while she slept. However, she remembered nothing from the dream.
  The assault victims continued to come into the emergency room, along with them came the occasional panic attacks, nightmares, and screaming in her sleep. This was her new norm. She just had to weather these burdens for a few more years, but did not know if she could.
  At times, there were certain events or images that would set her off. The first one was a severed finger. The image plagued her for weeks. This was a new and different symptom. Before the panic attacks would occur and the nightmares would be random. The finger, however, became a recurring nightmare. Eventually it stopped, but then a scalpel became a nightmare. She did wonder why there were certain items her nightmares circled around and focused on, but her busy schedule at the hospital prevented her from thinking more about it. Plus, how could one really solve these puzzles about dreams? This was, once again, just what her life was. The items continued to horrify her, but they came and went; just like the seasons. Her patients demanded her time, her debt demanded money, and her husband demanded her. She did her best for all aspects of her life.
  Months passed, and a welcomed distraction was a restaurant close to the hospital. Several of her coworkers recommended it, and she asked her husband to take her. She wanted to go with him, so they waited until their schedules allowed it.
  It was several weeks before they could get a chance to go. The place was an old diner and was not fancy, but known for its special dish of hot fried chicken. They walked in and found a booth, and sat down.
  “Hello… what would it be… Oh… hey Clair, how are you? I haven’t seen you in a while. This must be your husband,” said the waitress named Sally.
  Sally's familiarity with Clair confused her. She had never seen this woman before.
  “I’m sorry but… have we met before?” asked Clair.
  “Yeah… don’t worry, I will get your usual,” Sally said. A loud holler from across the diner interrupted her and must not have heard what Clair said. “What can I get for you?” Earl placed his order and once again, a loud group of customers in the back of the diner was yelling angrily for Sally. She finished taking Earl’s order before walking over to the loud customers that were yelling for Sally the entire time she was getting Earl’s order.
It baffled Clair how the waitress knew her name.
  Earl asked, “Well, honey… that lady seemed to know what you wanted. Is everything ok? Did you want me to get her back here to change your order?” Clair refused. The other customers were being mean and too demanding of the older waitress, Sally. Clair did not want to be more of a bother towards her.
  Clair sat there for a moment and realized she wasn’t being nice, but she was afraid. She did not want to know if she had been there before. She couldn’t remember if she had. Sally brought the food, and commented, “Ok Clair, I brought that extra sauce and we cooked it just the way you liked it…” before she could finish the customers again at the other table interrupted her. Sally went back over to them to address them.
  On the table, before her, was a plate of hot fried chicken and two side items. Clair started eating her meal. A chill ran up her spine as she realized this was cooked especially for her and the way she wanted it. The chicken was a little crunchy from being a little over cooked and twice as much sauce. The two sides were exactly what she wanted.
  Earl asked her, “Is that what you wanted baby? I see she didn’t give you any bread. Did you want to eat some of mine or get Sally back over here?"
  “No, I did not want any,” Clair said. Sally then came back by with a glass of iced tea.
  “Sorry dear, I forgot. That other table is driving me,” once again Sally was cut off before she could continue the sentence from the same rude and loud customers. Clair was afraid to pick up the tea. Clair liked sweet tea, but not too sweet. Earl was too busy eating to notice her distress. The phrase came back to her of what Sally said ‘…just the way she liked it…’ Sweet tea in restaurants were always a hassle because it was always too sweet for her. Clair knew it would be the perfect amount of sugar. She felt a panic attack coming on. This is what her life is like now, for her to be afraid of a glass of tea. She quickly picked it up and took a sip. It was perfect.
  Clair felt a chill over her body at the realization that she must have been here before. Not just once, but several times for her to have customized the order and Sally to remember her.
  “Earl, she got my tea right!”
  “Oh, that is great sweety. We definitely need to come back here since Sally is the only one that gets that right for you,” he said sincerely and sweetly.
  “No… the chicken is perfect as well,”
  “I am glad you are liking it. The meatloaf is killer too!”
  “No, you don’t understand. I have been here before,”
  “You have? I thought this was your first time?”
  “I think I have been here, but I don’t remember it.”
  “Sweety, it is either you have or you have not. Clair, you have an amazing memory. I know you would remember if you had been here before.”
  “You are right. I think I am working too much at the hospital. I have only been there five months, and it feels like five years.”
  They finished their meal while the loud and rude customers were still giving Sally a hard time.    Sally wave to say bye to them, “Have a good evening Beth. Good to see you again.”
  Sally called her by the wrong name. Clair felt better after the meal, perhaps she was just hungry. Perhaps it was all a coincidence. They left a tip and the diner. The customers were still yelling at Sally for no good reason. Clair was thankful she worked at the hospital, she did not think she could handle customers like that.
  Sally under her breath to no one said, “Why did I call her Beth? I know her name is Clair. I have seen her a dozen times.”
  Outside the diner was a cool evening. She walked hand in hand with her husband and a full belly. Her life has had a few ups and downs, but maybe the downs were all just stress and being overworked. She was happy. The diner had an alley right beside it that was dark and poorly lit. It was an ordinary alley with dumpsters lined up along walls of brick buildings on either side, yet she stopped and stared down it.
  There was something familiar here, and she felt compelled to walk down the alley. Earl called her name, but she did not hear him and simply let go of his hand as she walked down it. Earl told her it wasn’t safe to walk down a dark alley. It felt familiar to her, and she gave into the impulse. She came upon a spot that the mixture of streetlights and the darkness from the alley triggered in her memory. She remembered being here before.
  It was here in this spot where it happened. The finger… she had a scalpel in her hand. There was a fight, and she cut the finger off. It fell to the ground. She then…
  It all came back to her. She killed a man in this spot. She could not believe it. Dread and panic filled her. She could not breathe and fell to her knees, and started crying in sobs. It was hard to get a breath. She tried to calm herself from the panic attack and the sobbing. Clair does not enjoy watching wrestling or boxing, and did not like to see the violence in the emergency room. Yet, she had killed a person. She stole a scalpel from work and came to eat here. She followed a man out of the restaurant and lured him into the alley. Then she killed him.  
  She could not believe it. The pain in her chest from knowing she had killed someone was too much. She stayed on the ground, feeling guilty and full of pain. The words circled in her mind, ‘she had killed someone…’ as she cried uncontrollably. She felt a cold stab of dread and panic as something slowly crept out of the darkest corners of her mind that mirrored the darkness in the alley around her and that cold blade of dread pierced her heart with the thought: what if he was not the only one?