Sarah McMillan woke up to a blaring clock radio sound and sat upright in bed...but not her bed.
She looked around. The room she was in was the size of her closet at home. The clock radio was an old model, and the room might have been neat by virtue of the fact it was so empty. There was a banged up dresser and table and a closet.
It looked like it had been decorated at a thrift shop or yard sale, and Sarah stumbled to her feet, feeling exhausted, her muscles aching. She had to get out of here before anyone saw her. Whereever here was.
