A Strange Morning Who: Juliet Where: her room When: 8:17 AM
Normally Juliet's days started early. Inmates were required to get up at 7 a.m. to go to breakfast. Every day was the same, not much change. Her only visitor was usually her attorney on occasion; it seemed that most of her so-called friends couldn't spare the time. She was angry about that, and once she got out of prison, she was determined that they'd regret it. How she didn't know yet, but it wasn't as if she didn't have time to work it all out.
Slowly, she rose to wakefulness, aware that something was different but not sure what it was. One thing was that she was more comfortable than she typically was in her jail bunk. Softness surrounded her, and for once she was warm enough. The jail was drafty and too cool for her liking most of the time. Maybe it was a dream, she mused as she tried to force her eyelids open. That was wrong too, because ordinarily she was alert instantly upon waking up. Her brow creased in a slight frown. There was noise all the time in the prison, with the only respite being the deep reaches of the night. This was a quiet place.
Juliet lifted one hand to assist in getting her eyes open, rubbing at them and then pushing until that cooperative effort worked. "Whoa," she said, her voice barely audible. There was some kind of elaborate gold and crystal chandelier over her head. It took her long moments to pull her eyes from that and assess everything else. She was in a soft, comfortable bed in one of the most gorgeous rooms she'd ever seen. She had on a hospital gown, and there was an IV in her arm.
What did one do in those circumstances? If one happened to be Juliet Vargas, one went with it. She was too astounded that she hadn't awakened at Clatsop Community Corrections in northern Oregon to do anything but gawk around and, eventually, climb carefully out of the bed and pull out her IV in such a way that she didn't get blood on the sheets and duvet. What the hell? She stood for long minutes just staring, willing her heartbeat to slow down. Finally a brilliant smile broke out on her face as she realized she didn't care how she'd gotten here or why. She wasn't in jail.
Slowly, she padded to the bathroom, marveling at how elaborate it was. Jacuzzi tub, shower, sink, commode and bidet in their own secluded alcove, cabinets. It was amazing. She took care of personal needs and washed up, loosing her hair from the elastic at the end that had held it in a braid. Going back out into the room, she dressed herself in her dark blue unmarked prison sleepshirt and underwear. The shirt hit just above mid-thigh, but she didn't put on her pants because it was beginning to feel warm in here. It would do for now.
The door to what she assumed was the rest of the house was locked, so she turned back to her room and noticed the computer. Maybe that would hold a clue to what she was supposed to do next.