As Erica comes to, the first thing she becomes aware of is the stillness. The relentless pain that had torn through her before is gone, replaced by a dull ache. She feels heavy, like her body is anchored to the bed. Slowly, she opens her eyes.
The hospital room comes into view, bathed in soft light. It’s quiet, calm. Erica’s head feels fuzzy, her mind swimming as she takes in her surroundings. The sterile smell of the hospital fills her nostrils, and she blinks, trying to gather her bearings.
Her right shoulder is heavily bandaged, immobilized in a sling, and there’s a tightness there, a dull ache that pulses with every heartbeat, but it's nothing compared to the unbearable agony she'd felt in the warehouse. The fog of painkillers is thick in her mind, but her senses gradually return, sluggish and heavy, like her body’s still waking from a nightmare.
She tries to move, testing her limbs cautiously, but her muscles protest, weak and unresponsive. Her left hand twitches slightly, the only movement she can manage.
But she’s alive.
Her breath shudders as the realization sinks in. She's still here. Despite everything - despite the bullet that tore through her, despite the confrontation that almost killed her - she's still here.
Her eyes drift to the nightstand beside her bed. Among the sterile hospital equipment, there’s a small cluster of personal items - her phone, her purse and the familiar sight of her Rolex watch, laid carefully atop her belongings. Her father’s words seem to echo in the quiet room, wrapping around her like a whisper from the past: “Stand for something, or fall for anything.â€
The watch, heavy with memories and meaning, seems to glimmer in the low hospital light, a reminder of who she is. It’s more than just a timepiece; it’s her tether to everything she stands for, to the values her father instilled in her - the same values that had kept her going through every dark moment of this case. The same values that had brought her face-to-face with the shadows of her past.
Her left hand, though trembling, inches toward the nightstand. She winces, the movement sending a flare of pain through her shoulder, but she pushes through it, her fingertips brushing the cool metal of the Rolex’s band.
Slowly, carefully, she picks it up, letting the weight of it rest in her palm. The familiar sensation grounds her, and she grips it tightly, her thumb tracing over the engraving on the back – “Stand for something or fall for anythingâ€. Her father’s voice fills her mind once more, clear and steady as if he were standing right beside her.
For a moment, Erica closes her eyes, taking in the steady beeping of the heart monitor, the distant hum of hospital life beyond her door. The pain still pulses through her, but the weight of the watch in her hand somehow dulls it, reminding her of her purpose. Her adversary from the past may have tried to break her, but he hadn’t succeeded. Not by far.
Her breath steadies, her heartbeat calming as she opens her eyes again, still staring at the Rolex. She can feel the strength returning to her - not just physical, but something deeper. Something unbreakable. She knows that she still has a fight ahead of her, but this time, she’s better prepared than ever before.
She struggles to clasp the watch around her left wrist. It’s an awkward maneuver, and a frustrated grunt escapes her lips as the pain flares up again. But after a few moments, the clasp clicks into place, and the familiar weight settles on her wrist.
Her father’s words echo once more, firm and unyielding: “Stand for something, or fall for anything.â€
Erica’s gaze hardens with renewed determination. She’s been knocked down, but not defeated. There’s still work to be done, and there are still answers to be found.
She turns her head slightly toward the hospital window, where the pale light of early dawn filters in. The world outside hasn’t stopped. And neither will she.
The door to her room opens quietly, and a nurse enters, her face kind and professional. She looks at Erica with a warm smile. "How are you feeling?" the nurse asks softly. "Are you in pain?"
Erica tries to respond, her throat is dry, her mouth like sandpaper. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead, she just shakes her head weakly.
The nurse steps forward, holding a small plastic cup filled with water. "Here, drink a little." she says, gently bringing the cup to Erica’s lips. The cool water touches her parched mouth, and Erica drinks, grateful for the relief it brings.
"Thank you." Erica says, her voice hoarse but audible after she clears her throat. She tries to sit up slightly, wincing at the discomfort, but the nurse helps her with a gentle hand.
A minute later, the door opens again. This time, two familiar figures step into the room - John Dance and Claire Messner. Erica’s heart lifts at the sight of them. They both look relieved to see her awake.
Claire’s eyes are red-rimmed, a sign of the worry she’s been carrying. The moment she sees Erica, she crosses the room quickly, her face a mix of relief and distress. "Oh, Ms Sinclair...Erica…" Claire’s voice trembles, her hands clasping Erica’s as she sits down beside the bed. "I was so worried… Mr Dance called me, and I came as fast as I could. Thank God you’re okay."
Behind her, Dance stands with his usual steady demeanor, but there’s a softness in his eyes. "Glad to see you back with us." he says, offering a small smile. „That was a damn close-run thing yesterday.“ He pulls up a chair next to Claire, sitting down as well.
Erica’s lips curl into a faint smile, though it takes effort. "You… you saved me...us..." she says, her voice still weak, but her gratitude clear. "Thank you."
„My pleasure.“ Dance nods, his expression more serious now. "Tony Maze is dead." he says, his voice calm but firm. "He died from his wounds before the police arrived. It’s over, Erica. You’re safe now."
With the feeling of a weight lifting from her chest, Erica lets out a shaky breath. Maze is gone. The threat that had loomed over her for so long has finally been extinguished.
"And Andrea? How is she?" Erica asks, her voice tinged with concern.
"She’s shaken up, of course." Dance replies, "But she’s fine. The paramedics checked her over. She’s with Mrs Messner's husband now, getting some rest."
Claire nods, her face softening. "She’s okay, Ms Sinclair. She’s safe, thanks to you."
Erica closes her eyes for a moment, relief washing over her. Her friend is safe. The nightmare is finally over. Her body is weak, and her shoulder throbs with a dull numbness, but the knowledge that Andrea is unharmed brings her peace.
Website Migration Update
I moved the website to a new host, which I think will be more tolerant of the content this website hosts. Nevertheless, I do want to take a moment to remind everyone that the stories and content posted here MUST follow website rules, as it it not only my policy, but it is the policy of the hosts that permit our website to run on their servers. We WILL continue to enforce the rules, especially critical rules that, if broken, put this sites livelihood in jeapordy.
Erica Sinclair - Shadows of the Past // M/F
For all Erica Sinclair adventures, please visit my story collection over at Wattpad under:
https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing
https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing
Fantastic Chapter. Erica returning to the World of the Wakening. Her slow realization she is still alive. You captured her Emotions her feelings so well!
Dear @Caesar73, Erica has been really lucky. This could easily have turned out to be her last adventure, but she's still needed and tomorrow you will get to read the next part of this story.
For all Erica Sinclair adventures, please visit my story collection over at Wattpad under:
https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing
https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing
Looking forward to it dear @Jenny_SJenny_S wrote: 5 months ago Dear @Caesar73, Erica has been really lucky. This could easily have turned out to be her last adventure, but she's still needed and tomorrow you will get to read the next part of this story.
"You’ll probably be discharged in a day or two." Dance adds, his voice reassuring. "The doctors say the surgery went really well, and you’re on the mend. I'll fill you in on the details later. We will take care of everything including your little critters. Get some rest now, okay?"
Erica’s eyes flutter open again, and she looks at both of them, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. She’s alive. Her friend is alive. And for the first time in what feels like forever, she allows herself to breathe.
"Thank you." she whispers again, her voice filled with emotion. And this time, the words carry the weight of everything she feels - relief, gratitude, and the sense of survival.
After two days in the hospital, Erica Sinclair is finally getting discharged. She sits on the edge of her hospital bed, her shoulder still bandaged and tender but feeling stronger. Her heart races slightly, eager to leave the sterile environment behind and return to the comfort of her home.
Claire enters the room with a gentle smile, carrying a fresh set of clothes. "Here you go." she says softly, handing Erica some folded underwear, a black tank top, and Erica's favorite grey "cat mom" sweatsuit. Claire's presence brings a wave of comfort to Erica. The familiar softness of the clothes is a small, yet important, step toward feeling normal again.
"Thank you, Claire. For everything." Erica says, her voice a little raspy from the hospital air.
Claire waves it off with a warm smile but her eyes shine with genuine concern. "You’d do the same for me, Ms. Sinclair." As Erica stands, Claire steadies her, helping her slip into the tank top carefully, avoiding her injured shoulder. Then the sweatshirt, pulling it over her bandaged arm with slow, patient movements. The material feels soft and familiar against Erica’s skin, a small reassurance that she’s starting to reclaim her life.
Together, they make their way to the hospital's exit. Erica moves slowly but with determination, as Claire supports her, holding the plastic bag containing the clothes Erica wore during the traumatic events. It feels like a strange artifact from a different life.
Once at the parking lot, Claire opens the passenger side of the black Volvo. She gently eases Erica into the seat, buckles her in, and places the plastic bag on the backseat. As the car pulls out, the ride home feels longer than usual, even though Claire tries to keep things light.
"Spot and Tiger were little angels while you were gone." Claire tells her with a smile. "I fed them, played with them…they’ve got quite the appetite!"
Hearing about her kittens brings a warmth to Erica’s heart. "That’s good to know." she says, her voice quiet, still haunted by the events of the past few days. Her right arm aches with numbness, but the real weight sits somewhere deeper, a constant knot of unease coiled around her.
There’s a pause, and Claire glances over at Erica with hesitation, then speaks softly. "I knew something was wrong the moment you came into the office that day, Ms. Sinclair."
Erica meets Claire’s eyes for a moment and smiles - a small, grateful smile. "You know me too well, Claire." There’s no question now; Claire isn’t just an employee, she’s become something more - someone Erica can count on beyond just the job.
The Volvo turns into the underground garage of Erica’s building on West 72nd Street. Claire helps her out of the car, steadying her as they take the elevator in silence. The anticipation builds as the numbers light up, floor by floor. When the doors open, Erica steps out, her steps slow but deliberate. And then, the moment she sets foot inside her apartment, the overwhelming relief hits her like a wave. The familiar scent of lavender fills the air - her sanctuary, her safe space. Home.
Before she can even think, she hears tiny paws racing toward her. Spot and Tiger burst out of the living room, their little bodies vibrating with excitement. “Mommy’s home!†Claire says softly as the kittens reach Erica’s legs, nuzzling her with frantic affection. Erica crouches down as best she can, her left hand reaching for them, though her right arm still feels somewhat useless and stiff. The kittens rise on their hind legs, trying to get closer, pawing at her arm with tiny claws.
Claire, seeing Erica struggle, scoops the kittens up and holds them close so Erica can cuddle them better. Erica sinks down onto the black leather couch, pulling her furry babies close. For a moment, everything seems peaceful, normal even. She lets herself sink into the sensation, the warmth of Spot and Tiger soothing the edges of her fear.
Then the doorbell rings.
The sound sends an icy jolt through Erica’s body, her pulse spiking. Her breath catches in her throat - her mind flashing back to the warehouse, to the danger, to the threat she barely escaped. Her heart races again, and she feels a small tremor of panic.
Claire steps toward the door. “It’s okay.†she says softly, sensing Erica’s sudden tension. When she opens it, there are two familiar faces: John Dance and Andrea Santos.
Erica’s breath hitches again - this time in relief. She rises from the couch as much as her sore shoulder allows, and when Andrea steps in, the two women embrace. Erica holds Andrea close, tears welling in her eyes. “Drea.†she whispers. The weight of everything they’ve been through - the fear, the danger - falls away in that hug. Andrea’s eyes are swollen with tears as well, her relief palpable.
"I thought I’d lost you." Erica whispers, still holding her friend.
"I’m okay." Andrea says, her voice breaking slightly, muffled in Erica’s embrace. “I’m okay, thanks to you. You came for me…â€
John watches quietly but steps closer. “I tracked your phone.†he says, explaining how he had hacked into her phone after checking her apartment for surveillance devices. “I followed you the whole way to the warehouse. Got there just in time.â€
Erica pulls away from Andrea slightly, still holding onto her, but looking up at Dance. Her voice is soft, but steady. “You saved us.â€
He shrugs, his typical gruffness returning. “Just doing my job.â€
Then Andrea, still shaking from the ordeal, begins to recount what happened. “He – Maze - was waiting for me.†she says, her voice trembling. “At my lab. He knocked me out - chloroformed me - and then...†Her voice breaks, and Erica feels her chest tighten, knowing how close they all came to losing each other.
John steps in to finish. “Maze wanted you to come to him, and Andrea was the bait.â€
Erica’s eyes close for a moment, taking it all in, feeling the exhaustion of the past few days finally catching up to her. But she’s alive. Andrea’s alive. They survived.
Yes, she had to go to the warehouse, had to confront Maze and had to risk her life to save her friend - come hell or high water – and she would do it again. If nothing else, this adventure has taught her a lot about herself: she knows who she is and what she stands for.
One of the life lessons her father taught her, that courage is not the absence of fear, but being scared and doing it nonetheless rings through her head and for a fraction of a second she feels her father’s approving glance on her.
As they all sit together in the quiet of her apartment, with the kittens curled up beside her, Erica finally allows herself to believe it’s over.
The relief is overwhelming, but she knows the shadows of this experience will stay with her.
She’s not the same any longer, and maybe she never will be the same again. But for now, surrounded by the people - and the kittens - she cares about, Erica allows herself to rest.
Erica’s eyes flutter open again, and she looks at both of them, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. She’s alive. Her friend is alive. And for the first time in what feels like forever, she allows herself to breathe.
"Thank you." she whispers again, her voice filled with emotion. And this time, the words carry the weight of everything she feels - relief, gratitude, and the sense of survival.
After two days in the hospital, Erica Sinclair is finally getting discharged. She sits on the edge of her hospital bed, her shoulder still bandaged and tender but feeling stronger. Her heart races slightly, eager to leave the sterile environment behind and return to the comfort of her home.
Claire enters the room with a gentle smile, carrying a fresh set of clothes. "Here you go." she says softly, handing Erica some folded underwear, a black tank top, and Erica's favorite grey "cat mom" sweatsuit. Claire's presence brings a wave of comfort to Erica. The familiar softness of the clothes is a small, yet important, step toward feeling normal again.
"Thank you, Claire. For everything." Erica says, her voice a little raspy from the hospital air.
Claire waves it off with a warm smile but her eyes shine with genuine concern. "You’d do the same for me, Ms. Sinclair." As Erica stands, Claire steadies her, helping her slip into the tank top carefully, avoiding her injured shoulder. Then the sweatshirt, pulling it over her bandaged arm with slow, patient movements. The material feels soft and familiar against Erica’s skin, a small reassurance that she’s starting to reclaim her life.
Together, they make their way to the hospital's exit. Erica moves slowly but with determination, as Claire supports her, holding the plastic bag containing the clothes Erica wore during the traumatic events. It feels like a strange artifact from a different life.
Once at the parking lot, Claire opens the passenger side of the black Volvo. She gently eases Erica into the seat, buckles her in, and places the plastic bag on the backseat. As the car pulls out, the ride home feels longer than usual, even though Claire tries to keep things light.
"Spot and Tiger were little angels while you were gone." Claire tells her with a smile. "I fed them, played with them…they’ve got quite the appetite!"
Hearing about her kittens brings a warmth to Erica’s heart. "That’s good to know." she says, her voice quiet, still haunted by the events of the past few days. Her right arm aches with numbness, but the real weight sits somewhere deeper, a constant knot of unease coiled around her.
There’s a pause, and Claire glances over at Erica with hesitation, then speaks softly. "I knew something was wrong the moment you came into the office that day, Ms. Sinclair."
Erica meets Claire’s eyes for a moment and smiles - a small, grateful smile. "You know me too well, Claire." There’s no question now; Claire isn’t just an employee, she’s become something more - someone Erica can count on beyond just the job.
The Volvo turns into the underground garage of Erica’s building on West 72nd Street. Claire helps her out of the car, steadying her as they take the elevator in silence. The anticipation builds as the numbers light up, floor by floor. When the doors open, Erica steps out, her steps slow but deliberate. And then, the moment she sets foot inside her apartment, the overwhelming relief hits her like a wave. The familiar scent of lavender fills the air - her sanctuary, her safe space. Home.
Before she can even think, she hears tiny paws racing toward her. Spot and Tiger burst out of the living room, their little bodies vibrating with excitement. “Mommy’s home!†Claire says softly as the kittens reach Erica’s legs, nuzzling her with frantic affection. Erica crouches down as best she can, her left hand reaching for them, though her right arm still feels somewhat useless and stiff. The kittens rise on their hind legs, trying to get closer, pawing at her arm with tiny claws.
Claire, seeing Erica struggle, scoops the kittens up and holds them close so Erica can cuddle them better. Erica sinks down onto the black leather couch, pulling her furry babies close. For a moment, everything seems peaceful, normal even. She lets herself sink into the sensation, the warmth of Spot and Tiger soothing the edges of her fear.
Then the doorbell rings.
The sound sends an icy jolt through Erica’s body, her pulse spiking. Her breath catches in her throat - her mind flashing back to the warehouse, to the danger, to the threat she barely escaped. Her heart races again, and she feels a small tremor of panic.
Claire steps toward the door. “It’s okay.†she says softly, sensing Erica’s sudden tension. When she opens it, there are two familiar faces: John Dance and Andrea Santos.
Erica’s breath hitches again - this time in relief. She rises from the couch as much as her sore shoulder allows, and when Andrea steps in, the two women embrace. Erica holds Andrea close, tears welling in her eyes. “Drea.†she whispers. The weight of everything they’ve been through - the fear, the danger - falls away in that hug. Andrea’s eyes are swollen with tears as well, her relief palpable.
"I thought I’d lost you." Erica whispers, still holding her friend.
"I’m okay." Andrea says, her voice breaking slightly, muffled in Erica’s embrace. “I’m okay, thanks to you. You came for me…â€
John watches quietly but steps closer. “I tracked your phone.†he says, explaining how he had hacked into her phone after checking her apartment for surveillance devices. “I followed you the whole way to the warehouse. Got there just in time.â€
Erica pulls away from Andrea slightly, still holding onto her, but looking up at Dance. Her voice is soft, but steady. “You saved us.â€
He shrugs, his typical gruffness returning. “Just doing my job.â€
Then Andrea, still shaking from the ordeal, begins to recount what happened. “He – Maze - was waiting for me.†she says, her voice trembling. “At my lab. He knocked me out - chloroformed me - and then...†Her voice breaks, and Erica feels her chest tighten, knowing how close they all came to losing each other.
John steps in to finish. “Maze wanted you to come to him, and Andrea was the bait.â€
Erica’s eyes close for a moment, taking it all in, feeling the exhaustion of the past few days finally catching up to her. But she’s alive. Andrea’s alive. They survived.
Yes, she had to go to the warehouse, had to confront Maze and had to risk her life to save her friend - come hell or high water – and she would do it again. If nothing else, this adventure has taught her a lot about herself: she knows who she is and what she stands for.
One of the life lessons her father taught her, that courage is not the absence of fear, but being scared and doing it nonetheless rings through her head and for a fraction of a second she feels her father’s approving glance on her.
As they all sit together in the quiet of her apartment, with the kittens curled up beside her, Erica finally allows herself to believe it’s over.
The relief is overwhelming, but she knows the shadows of this experience will stay with her.
She’s not the same any longer, and maybe she never will be the same again. But for now, surrounded by the people - and the kittens - she cares about, Erica allows herself to rest.
For all Erica Sinclair adventures, please visit my story collection over at Wattpad under:
https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing
https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing
Spot and Tiger are so cute. They add something to Erica´s life - something good. The Shirt "Cat Woman" is a nice touch. This Story adds more background to Erica´s Personality.
Dear @Caesar73 , within a short time, Spot and Tigr have become such an important part of Erica's life, helping her with the loneliness she sometimes feels.
The next story takes Erica away from home and we will find out how she feels without them. Stay tuned, I will start "Erica Sinclair - Sea Dream" this weekend.
The next story takes Erica away from home and we will find out how she feels without them. Stay tuned, I will start "Erica Sinclair - Sea Dream" this weekend.
For all Erica Sinclair adventures, please visit my story collection over at Wattpad under:
https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing
https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing
Well, we've finally arrived at that delicious point of time, when my work for now is all over and i can begin my Christmas holiday. And i can see that i've got a lot of catching up to do!
So, i'm going to start that right here. For whilst i can say with total honesty, that i've thoroughly enjoyed ALL of your Erica Sinclair stories, this one has just taken things a little further, it has been the one i've enjoyed the most. The depth of your utterly superb descriptions of her emotions and fears have just been one step even higher, not that they weren't brilliant beforehand.
And although, as my own username completely suggests, i'm more of a 'dog person' as opposed to a 'cat lover,' those cute little bundles of fur that you introduced to this story was a masterstroke. Adding a little light-hearted 'white' to offset the overall 'black' tone of this utterly magnificent tale.
So, i'm going to start that right here. For whilst i can say with total honesty, that i've thoroughly enjoyed ALL of your Erica Sinclair stories, this one has just taken things a little further, it has been the one i've enjoyed the most. The depth of your utterly superb descriptions of her emotions and fears have just been one step even higher, not that they weren't brilliant beforehand.
And although, as my own username completely suggests, i'm more of a 'dog person' as opposed to a 'cat lover,' those cute little bundles of fur that you introduced to this story was a masterstroke. Adding a little light-hearted 'white' to offset the overall 'black' tone of this utterly magnificent tale.
Dear @LunaDog , thanks a lot for all the praise. Coming from you, this means a lot to me. You're home just at the right time to read the start of Erica's next adventure "Sea Dream" starting tomorrow evening.
In "Sea Dream", a luxurious cruise ship becomes the backdrop for Erica's sixth adventure: After her close brush with death through the hand of Tony Maze, Erica Sinclair decides to open a new chapter of her life and goes on a cruise, but soon she realizes that there are human predators aboard.
If you can't wait or if you want to revisit previous adventures, check out my homepage over at: https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing to read the full stories.
PS: Spot, the black kitten with the white tuft of fur on his chest is based on my own cat in looks, although Shredder is a lot older. Tiger is based on my neighbor's cat.
In "Sea Dream", a luxurious cruise ship becomes the backdrop for Erica's sixth adventure: After her close brush with death through the hand of Tony Maze, Erica Sinclair decides to open a new chapter of her life and goes on a cruise, but soon she realizes that there are human predators aboard.
If you can't wait or if you want to revisit previous adventures, check out my homepage over at: https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing to read the full stories.
PS: Spot, the black kitten with the white tuft of fur on his chest is based on my own cat in looks, although Shredder is a lot older. Tiger is based on my neighbor's cat.
For all Erica Sinclair adventures, please visit my story collection over at Wattpad under:
https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing
https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing
Looking forward to it!Jenny_S wrote: 5 months ago The next story takes Erica away from home and we will find out how she feels without them. Stay tuned, I will start "Erica Sinclair - Sea Dream" this weekend.
Dear @Caesar73 , Erica will set out on her voyage tonight. After the encounter with Tony Maze she needs a bit of peace and recovery.
For all Erica Sinclair adventures, please visit my story collection over at Wattpad under:
https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing
https://www.wattpad.com/user/JS_writing
in the same way that Luna is my wife's and my dog. A Bernese Mountain dog, or i believe that Germans refer to them as a Berner Sennenhund.Jenny_S wrote: 5 months ago PS: Spot, the black kitten with the white tuft of fur on his chest is based on my own cat in looks, although Shredder is a lot older. Tiger is based on my neighbor's cat.