Chapter 3

It probably started one morning. I said probably because, honestly, I couldn't be sure that my sense of time had gotten all messed up.

That day, I woke up, stared at the ceiling, and felt weird. This wasn't my room.

My room should have that band poster Michael stuck up next to the wardrobe. The corners were peeling, which I thought looked ugly, but he insisted it was a rare edition.

This room had nothing, just white walls, beige curtains, and a single bed.

I sat up, a little anxious. Then I caught a whiff of my usual laundry detergent…