OffSpring | ✎

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Chapter One | Aftermath
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K A I T L Y N

       THE FEEL of small knives repeatedly stabbing against my temple woke me from my slumber.

A groan slips past my dry, cracked lips as I unconsciously lick them moist while peeling my eyes open. Blurred objects fill my vision as I blink repeatedly, everything starting to clear up. I took note that I was lying on my side and from the corner of my eyes, I register an unfamiliar brown side-table and a white-coated door on the far end. Confusions wash through my system, fueling my movements as I slowly sit— instantly hissing when the throbbing against my skull intensifies.

I gingerly lift a hand to my head, urging the headache away as my eyes sweep across my surroundings; taking note of the bed I laid upon, a flat-screen hung up on the wall in front of me with the presence of two paintings on either side of it. A small fridge with the company of a microwave on top of it was placed in the corner of the room against the cream-colored wall.

I frown, massaging my temple with two fingers,  fully sitting up while I continue to gaze around.

'This isn't my. . . I don't think. .' my thoughts scattered across my brain with no direct sense of travel.

I slowly drift my eyes from the bottom of the bed, which was covered in a thin sheet that laid across my body. My eyes widen as I take in my naked form, my nïpples standing to attention as my mind finally registers the coolness that articulates in the air from the AC unit.

Scrambling to cover my bare chest with the flimsy bed covering, I now become more alert, forgetting about the tightness in my skull. I scan the room with new vision, to decipher where I was while racking my brain for previous events of how I needed up where I am.

With a heavy hurt fueled with anxiousness, I continue to search around the room for any sign of the location I'm withheld in. Off to my side where the bedside table resided, there lied a card with writing on it, leaning over, the coolness of the room raises the hairs on my arm as my fingertips brush along the card's edge before I slide it near me: taking it in my hand and reading the printed words.

Days Inn
Need any assistance?
Dial the front office. More Information
Contact us at 1-800-Days-Inn

My gaze draws away from the printed letters and toward the window, the large structure blocked by black-out curtains, through the parted seams of its material I peer out into the world, my eyes clashing with the hotel's welcome sign. Again, my conscious tries to reel back to the leading events until now, pressing further into the depths of my mind— only to be greeted with a blank slate, the last of my memories stuck at the arrival to the club.

Hindered at a roadblock, I rub at my forehead in frustration and somewhat a tinge of fear. My current attire gave off the obvious acts of what I've committed to; with the headache still present, my mind was far from conjuring the loss of my maiden-hood as my thoughts were soon interrupted by my bladder with the notion to release its contents.

Scooting to the edge of the bed until my feet hung off the sides, I drag the sheets along with me, keeping them pressed to my against my chest: my feet touch the hard details of the carpet as I stand to my full height. An unforeseen pain shoots from the valleys between my legs, causing my knees to buck beneath me. I hold myself up with the help of the nightstand, breathing deeply, the pain was unfamiliar and odd, the sudden urge to peek probes at my mind.