She was afraid to open her eyes. She didn’t want to know where she was, or the source of the smell. The back of her head throbbed. She thought of the purple brain sucking spores and desperately groped under her mess of hair to check if one of them was on her. She walked her fingers nimbly over her scalp and found only a large lump from where the guard had hit her. Coco avoided opening her eyes as long as she could. Soon the urge to vomit was so great she had no choice, if only to find somewhere to be sick. When she opened them, she had trouble focusing. Her dress was pulled up around her waist. Through her gauzy eyes, the room appeared to be a padded cell. On the floor nearby was her silver g-string. The room smelled like shit. Literally. Without much time to analyze it, she could see there was nothing else in the room with her. Just four, off-white, quilted walls, with a floor and ceiling to match. Clearly the only place to vomit was in the corner. Coco stood and pulled her dress down.
