After searching the entire place for a key to the door and spending some time in each room to see if anything new comes to me, I end up in the kitchen because my stomach won’t stop growling. I open the fridge, expecting to see it empty—I figure I’ll have to call an Uber or something to take me to town—but it’s fully stocked.
Pulling out stuff to make a sandwich, I hear something outside and go still. I don’t hear anything else, so I start in on my sandwich again, trying to ease some of my anxiety. Although I love having time by myself, since my accident, I find I’m anxious after too long alone. Mostly because being alone with my thoughts only spurs worries that I might never be who I was.
The knock on the door surprises me and I glance at the side table where Adam said he put the gun.
“
