Lily woke slowly, consciousness returning in fragments. Pain registered first—a dull ache throughout her body, sharper stabs in her ribs and shoulder. Then confusion. This wasn't the dark basement she remembered. The surface beneath her was soft, comfortable even. The air smelled sterile, antiseptic.
She forced her eyes open and immediately regretted it. Bright fluorescent lights burned overhead, making her squint against the glare. As her vision adjusted, she took in her surroundings.
White walls. White ceiling. White floors so clean they gleamed. Medical equipment lined one wall—monitors, IV stands, things she couldn't identify. A hospital room, or something designed to look like one.
Lily tried to sit up and discovered she couldn't move her arms. Panic surged as she looked down and saw restraints. Not rough rope like before, but padded medical cuffs securing her wrists to the bed rails. Her ankles were similarly bound.
