Moiras POV

The ceiling above me is wrong.

White tiles instead of water stains. Clean fluorescent lights instead of the bare bulb that used to flicker in my bedroom. The antiseptic smell fills my nostrilsmedicinal, sterile, nothing like the musty warehouse or stale cigarette smoke that always clung to our house.

'Where am I?'

I try to sit up, and pain shoots through my ribs. My head throbs, and my left eye feels swollen shut. But ...