Where were you last night? A question only I can ask myself. My memory gone, the bed sheets beneath me a mess, my hair in disarray. One hand on my head, one hand on my heart. It beats so very fast, I do not understand. Where was I last night, and how the hell did I end up here? From what I can tell, a motel in the middle of nowhere, with a stranger by my side. My memory cannot be jogged.

I lean over for a glance at his face, but he snores and I flinch at the sound. As I look down at myself, I let out an internal scream at the sight of my bare body. I scramble to grab my belongings, clutching my chest with the feel of my racing heart. Where are my clothes, where is my purse, where is my head? My head hurts and my breath reeks of vodka. What did I do last night? Where was I, what did I do, and with whom?

Half empty bottles of alcohol crowd the bedside tables- I almost knock one over with my elbow. My clothes are damp; the smell of them makes me nauseous, but they’re all I had with me. I guess I wasn’t planning to end up in the middle of nowhere with God knows who.

But God, oh God, how sickening that smell is.

As I look down, I notice that my shoes are on the wrong feet, and my blouse is inside out, but it doesn’t matter. The quicker I can get out of here, the better.

I run the moment I hear footsteps in the bedroom.