Author's note: Thank you for your reviews. I'm terribly sorry about the delay on both stories.

Chapter 2: Lost and Confused

Emilia woke suddenly from a nightmare and rubbed her head. It was killing her and she felt like she'd throw up if she had to move. "Where am I?" she asked no one. She no longer felt the humidity of the woods or the hard rock she remembered.

After finally regaining sight, she realized that she was no longer near her home or anything that resembled her little town. The only thing she recognized was the car she saw out of the window that sat to her right. "I thought I left that at the gas station," she said aloud, again, to no one.

"Oh good, you're awake," she heard someone with a southern accent say, "I thought you'd never wake up." After a few minutes of Emilia gaping at the girl, she said, "I guess you'll be wantin' yer privacy than. Just find me if you need anything, hon."

Emilia just sat there and watched the girl leave, her curly red hair bouncing with every step. Everything seemed so happy here, but Emilia still had a strange feeling. She was still lost and confused. She finally decided to get out of the bed she was in and look around as an attempt to figure out where she was. She walked to what she hoped was a bathroom and, sure enough, it was.

Emilia stared at herself in the mirror after splashing some water on her face. But it wasn't herself. She felt as if she was staring at a stranger in that mirror. Her once soft, shiny, and curly hair now lay limp and lifeless around her shoulders. Her once tan and beautiful skin was pale and scarred. Her arms were bruised and scratched from the tree and she felt even worse than she looked.

"Where am I?" she asked frantically, remembering that she was lost. She splashed more water on her face and walked back into the room she woke up in. Emilia walked up to the window that she saw her car out of and pushed the sunflower curtains that matched everything else in the room all the way back. There was nothing but a parking lot and a field of flowers and other small plants.

She walked down a narrow, wooden staircase that was possibly the only part of the whole building that was even slightly dark. She decided to ask the woman where exactly she was. The kitchen was just as cheerful as the bed room. It was covered in rooster-patterned items that ranged from salt and pepper shakers to curtains and table cloths. The sun shone brightly through each window and everything smelles of cinnamon. She found the lady talking to a cop and decided that she should lay low.

She walked through the kitchen and out the back door to find her face, the one she used to have, on the front of the newspaper. They hadn't read it yet. She grabbed the paper and threw it into the garbage, hoping the lady wouldn't find it. She couldn't leave just yet. She walked back up to the bedroom and fell asleep immediately.