Ziana’s POV
I groan, stirring awake as the past events rush me.
“Son of a b*tch.” I mumble as I look around the large room. The sun is rising, lighting the room. It’s cream colored, with floral accents. I grimace. The room looks like a grandmother’s guestroom. It has what feels like a king sized bed, a dresser, vanity, reading nook with a two seater vintage chair. Two night stands with floral, glass lamps.
Getting up I look down and sigh in slight relief that nobody changed my clothes. I am still in the deep purple dress from yesterday, or what I hope is yesterday and not a couple days. I open one of the four doors in the bedroom and see it is a walk in closet. Turning to the other door, I see the same, except this one holds my bookbag that I was running with and a duffle bag.
“How
