T H E W E S T E R N C L I N I C
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L Y N N'S P O V
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My eyes open to meet a white ceiling. It takes me what feels like a minute to realize the walls are also white. . .
The stiffling silence begs for a sound, just one sound to break it, but there's none. I lay still on a bed, and my eyes has not left the ceiling. They've only moved far enough to see the wall beside me. I can't move my neck for some reason. It seems like I have a collar on.
Where is this place?
My eyeballs are only rotating, moving in circles, but I can't find a way to help them dart towards the other angles of the room that I'm in.
No memories of how I got here, why or when. I try to think, but all I can remember is the moment I ope
