Carmen opened her eyes to a dusty room. She squinted against the harsh sunlight reflected around her yellow room, and slowly pulled the heavy comforter away. Her eyes quickly adjusted, but her eyes remained in a squint. This—this wasn't her house. She thought back to the night before but couldn't remember anything. It felt like ages since she had last been conscious, but she was still groggy. She thought back as far as she could, but nothing came up. The most recent memory was from when she was little. A flash of herself standing at the back door, looking out at a rainstorm. She knew that it wasn't a recent memory. She felt much older. She furrowed her eyebrows and sat back on the bed, rubbing her forehead. It felt like someone or something was blocking her memories. She knew who she was, but how old, where, or what her personality was...She couldn't even remember what she looked like.

She would have run, but there was nobody there. The room, at least, was deserted and what she could hear of the house, silent. She glanced around. The room was painted baby yellow and was a rectangle. It was narrower than it was long. At the front of the room was a window, directly across from that the bed. The bed was made of silver metal, the headboard nothing more than some silver poles. The bedspread was an old-fashioned farm-themed blanket. It was covered in light pink, blue, and yellow flowers, and was tied together with a frilly yellow border. Matching pillows rested at the top. Carmen felt nauseous just looking at it. She panned her eyes down the room, to the other side. She squinted again, unable to see anything clearly. She saw a mound of…something in one corner and a black…something else in the other pile.

Glasses. She thought as it suddenly clicked. I must need glasses. I wonder if whoever brought me here left them with me, or took them. Maybe they just fell off in a struggle, if I was captured.

She rose from the bed and walked to the windowsill, closely inspecting its white paint. She soon found a round pair of glasses. She wasn't sure if they were hers. They certainly didn't feel like her style, but she slipped them on anyway. The prescription was perfect, and she could see across the room. She glanced back on the bed to see if she was missing anything. On top of the comforter, she suddenly noticed an outfit. A short but stretchy skirt colored a muted steel blue, and a white button-up shirt covered in a tiny flowered print. There was also a pair of flats on the floor, the solid-colored shoes only a shade darker blue than the skirt. She groaned as she looked at it, then glanced down at what she was wearing. She wore a set of similarly patterned pajamas, the only major difference being that her shirt and shorts were covered in a black powdery substance. She glanced at the clean outfit, then rolled her eyes and put it on. Directly above it on the wall hung a brown knapsack. She took it off the wall and found just a disposable bottle of water, and a piece of paper with directions on it.

She slung the knapsack over her shoulder and crossed to the other side of the room. The air was thick with dust, and the other side of the room was covered in furniture. A couch, table set, and chairs were all piled in a corner, visible through the clear tarp that covered them. Carmen noticed the door and stepped towards it. She reached for its handle but dropped her arm. All around the door were scorch marks. The yellow paint was marred with black ash that licked up the wall. She shuddered, then pulled the door. She frowned when she found that it didn't open for her. She tugged again, more firmly, but still, it didn't budge.

Carmen pushed the glasses up the bridge of her nose, then went to the window. It was locked from the inside and slid easily up when she pushed it. She climbed out into the fresh air and dropped a few feet down onto a dirt road. Still needing answers and now, a bathroom, she made herself lower than the window and crouched around to the front of the house. Unsure if anyone was inside, she didn't want to take any chances.