Beta's Runaway Bride: 3 - Xiomara

The sunlight seems harsher than before as my eyelids flutter open, and my head feels like I drank four bottles of dirt-cheap wine. What happened to me last night? Am I coming down with a cold or something?

Must be; I’m smelling sandalwood when I should be smelling mold.

Well, something is making this motel’s bed and sheets feel extra soft, and I groan while stretching. Only when I inhale deeply and open my eyes, do I realize that I am, in fact, not back at my shitty motel.

¿Qué mierda?

I’m in an expensive-looking bedroom; a four-poster bed including lush velvet draping, warm browns, soft reds, and decadent creams. This would be how I’d decorate my room if my Papa didn’t want everything in sterile black and white.

But that awe soon gets replaced with terror, because I don’t know where the hell I am.

I jump from the bed, throwing off something heavy and gasping when I look down at my ripped t-shirt. Damn it, I don’t remember what happened last night! Did someone…was I raped?

I lift u