"You're awake," said a voice across the room, and she jerked to attention. Sitting on a chair, cradling a tea, was a man she'd never seen before. In a house she'd never seen before. The only thing she could really hold onto was his French accent, and the wary look in his eye as she tried to stir up memories of how she’d--
Flashes of blurred terror jolted her fully awake. She started to sit, but found it much harder than expected. Her head ached like someone had sunk a nail into it. She gasped, doubling over, trying to feel the back of her skull…but couldn’t make her hand make contact.
“Slowly,” said the man, setting down his tea. “You should take things slow.”
Maggie caught her breath, blinking back tears as she tried to focus. “W-where am I?”
“Someplace safe,” said the man. “Do you remember what happened?”
Even in her muddled state, she knew better than to say too much. Especially to a stranger watching her sleep. “No,” she said. “I was walking home, and—”
“From where?” he asked. Not unkindly, but not patiently, either.