Where am I?
The thought drifts lazily, like it doesn’t quite care about the answer. Something rough scratches against my cheek.
Not sheets. Not my pillow.
The surface beneath me is thin and unforgiving, barely cushioning the hard ground underneath as cold seeps through my clothes. A shiver moves through me but even that feels delayed. Then I hear it.
“Babe… wake up for me.”
The voice doesn’t land properly. It bends around my consciousness, garbled and distorted like it’s travelling through water. I try to focus on it but my thoughts slide away before I can hold them still.
“Come on girly pop, you can do it.”
Girly pop?The words feel absurd. Out of place. Like glitter scattered across concrete.
My eyelids flutter but the effort is monumental. The world behind them is heavy and grey and spinning slowly on its axis. When I force them open a fraction, the light that greets me is wrong - it’s dim and flickering, not warm or natural.
Shapes blur above me. Metal beams? The ceiling is too high. I blink again and regret it instantly because the motion sends a wave of nausea rolling through my stomach.
My throat tightens.
My head feels packed with cotton.
“Girly pop… stay with me.”
The voice is closer now. I try to turn my head toward it but even that small movement makes the room tilt dangerously. The air tastes like dust and rust and something that hasn’t been aired out in years. Memory flutters at the edges.
Car.
Dark road.
Trees swallowing the sky.
Quinn.
The thought jolts weakly against the fog but doesn’t fully break through. I swallow and it hurts. My lips feel cracked. My body feels disconnected, like I’ve been unplugged from myself and left somewhere cold.
My hand twitches against the surface beneath me and I register it properly this time. A thin mattress. The floor beneath it is concrete. My heartbeat stutters, it’s slow and irregular like it hasn’t decided whether it’s meant to be afraid yet.
“Come on babe, open your eyes for me. That’s it.”
I drag them open again, wider this time and the room swims. In front of me are industrial walls, shadowed corners, a single hanging bulb swaying gently overhead. Cold presses in from every direction. It’s the type that creeps under your skin and makes your teeth want to chatter even when you’re exhausted.
My mind feels fractured. Why does everything feel… wrong? I try to sit up and my muscles protest instantly. My arms tremble as I push against the mattress and I collapse back down with a soft, frustrated breath.
“Hey, hey careful now, don’t rush it. Babe, wake up for me.”
The voice cracks slightly on the last word. That’s when it registers. There’s fear in it. It’s not playful, or teasing. Just pure unchecked fear. My pulse spikes weakly in response, with it comes the first real shard of clarity. This isn’t a nap. This isn’t my bed. This isn’t safe. The cold no longer feels distant. It wraps around my spine and tightens. My thoughts begin to sharpen at the edges, slicing through the drugged haze in uneven pieces.
Barn.
Gravel.
Her pale coat.
My engine cutting off.
I inhale too sharply and the air burns on the way down.