Fugitive.

As Joana slowly opened her eyes, she had no idea of where she was. Both her hands and legs were tied up with a cord and her head was banging with a throbbing ache. The only that flashed in her mind was John's cousin driving and then the crash. How did she get here? Where was she? 

She raised her head to observe the room. It was small. The roof had no ceiling, the floor was concrete and the only light that penetrated the room was from a wooden window at the left side of the room. That wasn't all. Someone was in the room with her. 

"W-Who's there?" She said as she squinted her eyes at the figure who sat with a crossed leg on a steel chair.

"Good, you're awake." The figure said getting up then walked closer to Joana.

"Veronica--" Joana said, her jaw dropped in awe.

"Uhm, no darling." Cassandra said tapping the tip of her nose. "Guess again."

"Were you lying to us about your name being Veronica?"

"No dear, Veronica is real alrig