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The aroma was fresh, and almost floral.
Genna opened her eyes slowly, painfully. The light was too bright. She turned her head and felt cotton on her skin, not only against her cheek but all over her body. That was where the smell came from.
She was in bed—no, in a bed. It was the wrong size to be her own. Exploring with her hands, she could reach the edges with ease. This bed was small, almost a cot. And there was another smell in the room, something like disinfectant, or maybe bleach.
aWith her head turned, the light was less intense. The wall she faced was grey and nondescript. She reached out a hand, felt the tightness in her muscles and the ache that ran through her whole body. The wall was cool to the touch. And it was familiar.
She understood.
They had drugged her
