Unfold

Chapter Eleven (11)

Jean opened her eyes and felt like her throat and mouth were on fire. She couldn't even swallow, and she saw the bottle of water on her nightstand. She grabbed it and pressed it to her lips, the cold water soothing her dry throat.

A few hours later, she was feeling slightly better. She wondered where Jasmine was. The sun had illuminated more of the room through the window, and she looked at the chestnut dresser in the corner. Confusion began to set in as she realized she wasn't in Jasmine's room. In fact, she didn't recognize her surroundings. She looked around and realized she was lying in a bed she didn't recognize, in a room she didn't recognize.

She racked her brain for anything that happened the night before. She remembered getting to the bar with Jasmine, and she remembered greeting Bret, kissing him on the cheek.

Bret...

"No," she whispered to herself, looking around. This had to be his house. She couldn't remember leaving the bar with him, or how she got here, but this had to be where she was. She remembered the character she was trying to portray, and being more promiscuous around him. She knew she had too much to drink, but she didn't think she would take it this far.

She pulled the covers back and sat up in bed. Somehow she didn't have a headache. What had happened to her last night? She knew she had a lot to drink, but her memory was completely absent. She couldn't remember ever experiencing anything like this before. She tried to remember when her memories ended, and everything was a blur after walking into the bar with Bret.

Had he done something to her? Her heart started to race quicker as the pieces started to fall together. She had gotten herself so drunk and put herself in the hands of a stranger. Now she woke up in the bedroom of a stranger with absolutely no memories. It didn't take a much thought to figure out what most likely happened here.

She felt herself starting to panic. Not again. How could she let this happen again? The memories of the night that she had worked for eight years to forget came flooding back to her.

You set yourself up, her mom had said. What'd you think was going to happen?

She threw back the covers as her breathing quickened and she jumped out of bed. She paced back and forth, her hands over her mouth as she tried to calm herself down. Not here, Jean. Don't lose it until you know where you are.

She put her hands on her stomach to try to focus on taking in deep breaths when she realized she was wearing an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. They were definitely boy clothing. She was clearly at a boy's house. A boy she didn't know. It was mostl likely Bret, but it could also be Doug. The fact that she was wearing clothes was a good sign. Maybe she changed into pajamas after the bar? Somebody was thinking about her wellbeing enough to loan her some. She eyed the water bottle that was sitting on the nightstand. Also a good sign.

She tried to distract herself from letting her mind run away with what might have happened to just trying to figure out how to get home. Looking around the room, she saw her own clothes from the night before neatly folded on an armchair, her wedge shoes sitting neatly on the floor next to them. Her bra was still on, so that must mean that it never came off. She didn't see Bret as the kind to respectfully put her stuff neatly in a corner where it could be easily found. Something wasn't adding up.

Jean soon realized her purse was not around. That meant her phone was missing. She needed to call Jasmine and figure out what had happened. She slowly sat on the edge of the bed, trying to remember if she had even worn a purse. Did she put her phone in her pocket? She walked over to the stack of clothes to check, but had no luck.

She turned to the closed bedroom door. This was her reality. She was in a stranger's place with absolutely no memory of what happened the night before. She had no phone to call for help, no money, and no sense of direction.