CHAPTER 3
A loud banging startled her from sleep. Grabbing her device, Maya saw it was a little after four o'clock, not the half-six she had intended after not getting home until just after noon. The next thing her tired eyes registered was over twenty missed calls and numerous unread messages. Her head pounded in time with each bang of the door. Even from upstairs, she could hear the cracking of the wood against the strain.
Fighting back the frost-white comforter, she reached under her bed to grab the baseball bat she had kept there since she was a little girl. Her father had given it to her when he started to have emergency patients dropping by the house at ungodly hours, day and night, the same time he had put a lock on her door instructing her to keep it locked at all times. This bed
