LENA SCHMIDT
Lena woke up somewhat confused. Where was she this time? Still at the Rothschilds’ winery? In the back of an army truck? Someplace else?
She blinked the sleep from her eyes and looked around. Wherever she was, the walls and ceiling were entirely white. Fear gripped her in an instant. Her breathing picked up. Her arms and legs became leaden. Fragments of shivery thoughts raced through her mind in a blur, as bad feelings swirled inside her gut. Something about the whiteness made her uneasy; she felt trapped, though she didn’t understand why.
Fortunately, a roll-top desk across the room seemed familiar. Then she recognized several college textbooks and a toy stuffed giraffe on a shelf above the desk. Of course. She was in her own bed in her bedroom at her parent’s house in Ber
