It must have been hours later when she finally awoke. Her throat was dry and a cloying, sterile odor clung to her. Casey struggled to sit up, to remember what had happened. “I’m in hospital. I should call Mum, she may have heard about the accident. I need to call work. The interview! I’m so dead.” She looked for her watch which wasn't there. Frowning, she pushed her long brown hair over her shoulder and looked at herself. She wasn't in a hospital gown, she was still wearing her work clothes. She focused on her environment. This wasn't a hospital.
Panic set in: Casey scrambled for her cell phone but of course it was not there, the laces were pulled out of her boots and she noticed, to her horror, that someone had even taken the hair ties off her wrist. Her hair felt suddenly hot down her back and her heart picked up its pace and anxiety pounded the side of her head like an abusive partner. Casey felt around for something to brace herself on, something solid that could help ground her as she felt reality sinking away. A laugh escaped her throat- the interview seemed trivial now.
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