Celeste
I wake up to the sensation of being jostled around. Everything hurts like a dull ache as if I was jumped, beaten, and robbed in an alleyway then left for dead. I try to open my eyes but they are too heavy, keeping shut on their own volition. I can sense that I am in a vehicle from the sound of whirring tires and metal grinding on metal. We hit a bump which ragdolls me into the air then on the solid surface below again. Whatever it is, it feels like sandpaper. I sense a foot underneath me swiftly accompanied by her cry of pain. I'm trying to get my bearings—to establish myself—but I'm too disoriented.
With a dry, parched mouth I ask anyone in particular, since I know I'm not alone: "Where am I?"
A female voice responds: "Celeste, you're awake!"
There is some shuffling and murmu
