Chapter 3

              (Angela's POV)

       Urgh, my body hurts alot. My whole body weighs like a ton of bricks. I tried opening my eyes but my kids felt heavy. I tried again after a while and I was successful this time. I blinked a few times to clear my blurry vision. It was clearly morning as light poured in from the window. I looked around and discovered that I was in a room, a very beautiful room, if the decor was something to go by. But then again, how did I get here in the first place? This obviously isn't my room and I wasn't supposed to be home anyways. The walls were painted yellow with white trimmings. The queen sized bed, which I happened to be laying on right now, is at the centre of the room. A walk in closet was placed to the right, a desk on one corner, a door, I'm guessing leads to the bathroom faces the door leading outside the room. The room itself doesn't appear to be lived in because everything looks too clean with no sign of usage. Then my memory came flooding back. I remembered my encounter with the loosers, the male voice, and the shiny expensive shoes. I winced in pain as I got up. With my hand clutching tightly around my middle, I opened the door that leads out of the room and went in search of the owner of the house, hopefully, I would find out how I got here. I took the stairs and it led me what appears to be the living room, which was empty. I heard voices and followed the sounds which led me to the dining room. The second I got in, all conversations seized and five pairs of eyes stared at me. Three curiously,while the other two, who seemed to be the parents, smiled at me. "Oh you're awake. We didn't want to wake you because we felt you needed to rest after what you went through hours ago. But since you're up, come sit and have breakfast." The mister said. I still didn't know if I should sit or not and the mother, who seemed to notice my hesitation, smiled at me and moved over to guide me to a sit. She got me a plate, stacked a couple of sliced bread on it, she took a cup and poured tea to it before passing them to me. "What would you like to have your bread with? Mayonnaise, butter, jam or nutella?" She asked. I didn't reply her. Don't get me wrong, I am not trying to be rude, I was just being cautious. I find it difficult to trust people after everything my own dad put me and Mom through. When I didn't speak, I was given butter, since it was the safest choice. "Dad, who is she and why does she looks battered and bruised?" One of the girls who had been staring, asked. "I believe I taught you some manners, Rita?" He replied then he turned to me and said, "How do you feel dear? I asked my wife to clean you up and get you something to wear since your dress was torn. Come on, say something. You're safe here and you can trust us." I chose that moment to speak up. "Good morning everybody, I am sorry for not replying earlier. I didn't mean to be rude but after everything I've been through, I find it difficult to trust a stranger. How did I get here?" I asked.

To be continued