I muttered. “I can only assume a horrific crash or accident of some kind can be responsible for how entirely awful I feel.” Silence greeted that statement and I continued to lie there, wherever there was, for a while. My ears and nose didn’t tell me much. Quiet. Dust. Wood. Ava. Not much else available in the air, and at best, I felt like a lump of lead. The motivation to get up or move around just wasn’t there. I tried to get a handle on the series of events that had led me to wherever the hell I was. The last clear memory I had, was getting into the Land Rover stolen by Ava. I vaguely had a recollection of getting into another vehicle at some point. The sound of doors opening, the irritating chime of the car telling us the key was still in the ignition, then the smell of leather and vanilla air freshener. Driving sucked, I could remember that much. Every motion of the car sent my stomach roiling and I couldn’t have been more grateful that my stomach was too empty for me to throw up in the car.
