She was in a blackout.  Wandering around the dirty, isolated area between 10th Avenue and the Westside Highway of Manhattan searching for the police precinct where she thinks her recently arrested boyfriend is.  Luckily, it’s spring so she doesn’t freeze in her skimpy club outfit, but it wouldn’t matter much anyway.  The lack of blood circulation to her brain from drinking the entire bottom shelf has temporarily disabled her physical senses.  Later, she will learn that these blackouts which have become a normal part of her weekends are actually the beginning stages of brain damage.  She’s traveling light since she misplaced her purse at some bar with the word “Dilemma” in it and all she has is her cell phone, which she can’t use because the screen is too blurry.

She’s back in her Upper Westside apartment when he comes barreling through the door.  She’s not sure how she got home with no purse and no money.  She barely finishes the thought before she’s knocked to the floor and his hands are around her neck.


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