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" If I were you, Evelyn, I would put that gun down and stand back. "
Her sickening voice traveled to my ears. I turned around to look at her dead in the eyes. She gulped and cowered a little at the direct eye contact. Keeping my eyes locked...
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I woke up with a start almost falling off of the bed.
A bed? How was I in a bed?
Oh darn this headache! My head felt as if a million little soldiers were stomping their feet on my skull. I groaned out loudly.
I was afraid to move at first not wanting to worsen the pain, but I knew I had to get up eventually. I twisted slowly and started to rise from the bed. My legs felt as if they were paralysed and were numb. I could barely feel them. My left side hurt so bad that I almost screamed out.
The exertion from the days of running and hiding came crashing down on me in that moment. I groaned again as I sat up on the bed. My head did not appreciate the sudden change in the angle and neither did my stomach, it turned and roiled in an unpleasant way making me want to puke my guts out. Steadying myself, I let the wave of nausea pass through me.
When I felt a little better I lifted my head slightly and examined my surroundings. I was in a bedroom and the faint smell of cologne in the air told me that it was a man's bedroom. I tried to remember what had happened last night but I just couldn't recall anything.
There was a neat wooden desk beside the bed and a few spiral notebooks were scattered on the top of it. There was a small wardrobe right across from the bed and the window beside it was open letting the warm sunlight come in. There weren't many thing in the room but one thing caught my eye. Right below the window, was kept a classic wooden guitar along with a whole window cabinet filled with old records.They looked were well taken care of.
However, that wasn't the only guitar in the room. Looking around the room I could see two more guitars tucked in the corner of the room, one was in a case and the other one was visibly smaller than the others. But the wooden guitar was looking like the owners prized possession. So this guy probably was a singer like me. At least I hoped so!
A few posters adorned the walls but other than that the room looked plain and bland almost as if the owner never stayed in.
I was intrigued by the room. I needed to know how the hell I ended up here, though. God I hope I didn't do anything stupid!
I carefully got up from the bed and stumbled towards the door. Opening the door I leaned into the frame and looked around. It was a small hallway outside. There was another door adjacent to this one and it looked like it was another bedroom. A spare room maybe? Across the hall was the bathroom.
Slowly I dragged my partially numb feet to the door and opened it. I gasped after looking at my reflection in the mirror.
I looked like a ghost of what I used to be, less than 2 weeks ago. My skin was pale with small cuts and bruises all over and it seemed as if I had lost half my weight. Not having changed my clothes in days didn't help the picture either. I looked like a homeless girl, which I essentially was now. There was almost no trace of the confident and independent girl, who had run away from New York, in that reflection.
