The walls were white, too white, and the sheets felt foreign. Naya woke gasping.

She sat up abruptly in the soft guest bed, one hand gripping the duvet like it might anchor her back to reality. Her heart pounded in her chest, her skin clammy beneath the oversized T-shirt she didn’t remember putting on. The dream still clung to her, the echo of Daniel’s laughter, Chloe’s syrupy voice dripping venom behind glass.

You're the joke, Naya.

She pressed her palms into her eyes. No prison ...