I wake up with a blinding headache and my throat feels like I gargled with sand. I sit up slowly, afraid to move too quickly and risk even more pain. The room I’m in is clean, thank the Goddess for small favors, I guess. Everything in this room is white, though. White carpet, white walls, white curtains, a white dresser, white desk, white arm chair, and I’m sitting on a white bed. The starkness of the décor is almost painful. I look down at what I’m wearing and cringe. A white lacy 1950’s style cocktail dress. The violation of knowing someone changed my clothes while I was unconscious makes me want to vomit.
I get to my feet and brace myself against the bed while the room spins. As soon as I think I may not fall down, I shuffle over to the door and try the handle. Locked. It was worth a
