Alexandria
It took me a few seconds to process...the turning of the tumblers...the rapid beating of my heart...
I was locked inside my childhood bedroom.
My heart continued to pound, the beat no longer contained in my chest, but hammering in my ears.
Slowly, I turned, not stopping until I made a complete circle.
My room—the familiar wallpaper.
My bed—the floral cover and eyelet skirt and canopy.
My windows—their draperies pulled, bound by ropes of satin to reveal the cobblestone driveway below.
Everything was as it had been, months ago, years ago...forever.
Unchanged.
The thought of thriller movies and books itched at my consciousness. Had I ever left? Had I ever been free? Or in some sick twist of fate, was I where I’d always been and everything else—Nox, Stanford, and Columbia—was but a dream, an illusion?