SYDNEY
I woke up dazed, my vision blurry and my body heavy. I could move, but I didn't have the strength to, and in about five seconds, all the pain and recent memories came crashing down on me like a tidal wave. My head felt like it had been cracked open, stuffed with jagged rocks, and shaken up like a maraca. The pain was unbearable.
I lifted my trembling arm to my head and felt thick fabric wrapped tightly around my forehead. My heart sank. Another scar? Another ugly mark? Panic shot through me, giving me just enough strength to push myself off the bed. I needed a mirror.
I staggered as I took in my surroundings. The room was huge—like something out of a fairy tale. A massive princess-style bed sat in the center, the sheets soft and luxurious. The floor was carpeted so thick it swallowed my feet. A gigantic TV hung from the wall, and elegant furniture filled the space. The golden glow of chandeliers kept the room bright, despite the night sky outside. But none of that mattered. I needed to see my face.
My eyes darted around until I spotted a door with a restroom sign. I stumbled toward it, my legs weak but my panic stronger. The second I saw my reflection, my stomach twisted.
The person in the mirror was hideous. My hair was tied up messily, strands sticking out in odd directions. The white cloth wrapped around my head was stained with dried blood, weighing my head down. My breath hitched. On impulse, I reached up and unraveled the bandage. My fingers shook as I turned my head to the side.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.
A massive chunk of my hair was gone. Just… gone. The raw, injured skin underneath looked hideous —red, swollen, and uneven like someone had hacked away at it with a blunt butter knife. My knees buckled, and I crumpled to the floor, tears blurring my vision. This couldn't be real. It had to be a nightmare. It had to be.
"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The door burst open, and a lady rushed in. She froze for a second, eyes wide with shock, before quickly kneeling beside me and pulling me into a tight hug.
"Hey, hey. It's okay. It's okay. Everything will be alright, I promise."
She kept whispering those words over and over, her voice soft and calming. It took me a while to stop crying, but even when the tears dried up, my body still shook. I clung to her without thinking, something about her making me feel safe. Familiar, even.
She pulled back slightly, looking at me with an expression I couldn't read. There was something in her eyes—something I couldn't quite place.
"My dad found you on the road," she said gently. "You were badly wounded. I did my best to wrap your wounds, but I'm no doctor. I'll find a way to get you to a hospital. Mother and Father aren't home, but once they're back, I'm sure they'll help you."
She hesitated. "Um… is something wrong?"
I realized I'd been staring at her, trying to figure out why she felt so familiar.
"No," I muttered. "I'm just hungry."
Her face relaxed. "Oh! I'll get you something to eat." She stood up and headed toward the door but stopped. "Father said not to let you leave this room. I'll be back soon."
The door closed behind her, and I heard the lock click.
A weird feeling settled in my chest. Something was off. My mind raced with questions.
Had Jason's dad taken me here? Did Jason know I was here? If he did, what would I even say to him? Had his dad told him anything? Would Jason hate me for ignoring him? For almost killing his father? Or would he still look at me the way he used to—with that soft, unspoken understanding? Did he miss me? Did he wonder why I suddenly pulled away, why I stopped answering his messages even when it was killing me? Would he even care that I was hurt? Or had I pushed him so far away that he had stopped thinking about me altogether?
Or… had a stranger found me? If so, where was I? This place didn't look like anywhere I knew. Was I even still in Nigeria? Had I been kidnapped? What if—
"I'm back."
I snapped out of my thoughts as she walked in, carrying a tray of food. The smell hit me instantly, and my stomach growled so loudly it was embarrassing. Jollof rice, sweet fried plantains, spicy chicken. My absolute favorite.
I hesitated for a second. How did she know? But then I shook the thought away. Everyone loves Jollof.
"How long have I been asleep?" I asked as I grabbed the gold spoon and started eating. The smoky flavor of the rice was perfect, just how I liked it.
"A week," she said casually.
I nearly choked. I had to force myself to swallow, my throat tightening.
"What?!"
"Father didn't want to take you to the hospital. I don't know why," she admitted. "So, I took care of you. My twin sister took our friend to the hospital, so you've been my responsibility."
She said it so plainly, but something about it made me feel… like a burden. Like I was unwanted. I hated that feeling.
"Where are your parents?" I asked quietly.
She paused. "Not somewhere I can tell you."
I nodded and continued eating. The air between us felt heavy. She knew something. I could see it in her eyes, the way they flickered for just a second too long. I was good at reading people—years of watching my mom's expressions after my dad left had trained me well. She wasn't telling me everything, and that meant whatever she was hiding was bad and had something to do with me.
"When you're done, leave your tray near the door," she said, standing up. "A maid will come get it after you fall asleep."
She walked out, and the door clicked shut.
I waited a few seconds before creeping over and testing the handle.
Locked.
My stomach sank. My hands tightened into fists as a new kind of fear settled in.
I was trapped.
And I had no idea why.
But one thing was clear—I needed to get out of here. Fast.