Brokenhearted

Phoebe slowly opened her eyes, squinting as she tried to adjust to the dimly lit room. As she sat up, she looked around in confusion, trying to figure out where she was.

The walls were bare and the room was empty, except for a small table and the wobbly bed she was lying on.

She shook off the grogginess that had taken hold of her and she tried to move, panic began to set in, realizing her wrists were bound, leaving her unable to move freely. She could feel the ropes digging into her skin, causing her to wince in pain each time she struggled to take it off.

Phoebe tried to calm herself down, but her heart was racing like crazy. She couldn't contain her fear and it spread through her system like a virus.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her head was still spinning, but she forced herself to stand up only to trip on her feet and fall face down.