It's funny how time has a way of slipping away from you, and scary as hell when you finally catch back up to it again.  Its even worse when no one will tell you what you've been doing.

My family had been murdered 1 year earlier in a home invasion turned to senseless violence.  They broke in at 4am, I woke up first.  They tied us up in the living room and took whatever wasn't too heavy to move.  We offered them no resistance at all, my 2 girls cowered against me and my husband lay unconcious on the floor.

I thought they were just going to go away, but they came back 5 minutes later and shot us all.  God has a sick, twisted sense of humor.  I was the only one who lived, and I had been shot the most number of times.  The doctors counted 6 shots, 4 of which should have been fatal.  I spend 4 months in the hospital recovering, learning to walk and talk again.  Learning to dress and feed myself, but mostly trying to deal with the loss of the most precious thing in the world to me.

The police never came up with any leads, and a few weeks after I got out and went back to work, is when I noticed that time seemed to be out of whack.  I'd remember staying late at work to finish up a project, then find myself standing in a grocery store 2 days later.  I had no idea how I'd gotten there, and everyone at work would look at me funny when I asked them when the last time they saw me there was.

I knew the voices and the faces of the men that had taken my family from me, and I knew that it was them that were messing with time now.  I had to find them, and make them stop.  I also wanted to know why they had to kill us.

I found where they were all holed up and made plans to confront them, but time slipped again.  The next thing I knew I was standing in front of a judge being tried for murder.  They asked me what I had to say for myself, and I was going to ask "What the hell was going on."  Instead I thought of my youngest daughter's favorite movie Scooby Doo 2, and what came out of my mouth was "Bunny"  complete with the shadow puppet on the wall beside the judge. 

No one seemed to be amused by it, and the verdict came back that I was insane.  Time slipped again, and I found myself strapped to a bed in Vanderbilt Sanitorium.