9. The Dreamer-Drifting to Consciousness

She was alone in the darkness, in the black.  A dream with no dreams and no Scythe Girl.  Peace.  Relaxing into the heavy absence of light, Anna floated.

"...anna..." a whisper reached her ears.  Strange, it was her mother's voice.  A current swirled in the black, carrying the still drifting Anna.

"My poor baby..." her mother's voice was louder now.  But it was different, and yet somehow familiar.  There was always laughter in that voice.  Except for when Grandma Ruth had died.  Then, the laughter had been replaced with sorrow.  It as almost like that now, only tinged with helplessness.

"You're father will be here soon.  He left on the first flight out of London," that caring voice continued.  Her father had been on a business trip.

"I must be in bad shape if dad's cutting his business trip short," she said to herself.  Was the black now a very,  very dark grey?

"I'm here, Anna," it was her mother's voice.

"Mom!" Anna said.  The darkness continued to lighten, shade by almost indistinguishable shade.

"You're father will be here soon, he left London on the first available flight here," it was what her mother had said earlier, only worded slightly differently.  The darkness was now a light gray and Anna could feel phantom fingers entwined with her own.

"I know, you said that earlier...

...mom," the darkness was gone.  A hospital room had replaced it, and the first thing her eyes met were her mother's.