Her towel was caught in the door.

Bailey’s heart skipped a beat as she spun around, desperately trying to yank the towel free. Her fingers fumbled, pulling at the fabric with increasing panic, but no matter how hard she tugged, the towel refused to budge. A sinking feeling settled in her chest as she realized what had happened—the towel was caught in the door. It had snagged in the latch, and now it was stuck, trapping her outside in the most humiliating way possible.

She pulled harder, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, but there was no give. The towel was firmly caught, and it wasn't going anywhere. Her stomach twisted into knots as the weight of the situation crashed down on her. The cold breeze against her skin seemed to intensify, and the sound of the city beyond the alley echoed in her ears, a stark reminder that she was utterly exposed.

Her mind raced, searching for a solution, but the reality was inescapable. In order to move at all, she would have to leave the towel behind. She’d have to walk around, completely naked, to the front entrance—no towel, no protection, nothing to cover her vulnerability. The thought made her stomach turn, a wave of horror and dread flooding through her. She could already feel the stares, the judgment, the discomfort of being completely seen by the world.

Bailey swallowed hard, her mind numb with panic. There was no other choice. She could feel the towel pulling tight against the door as if mocking her, and with one last, hopeless pull, she realized it was time to let go. The reality of her situation hit her like a cold wave: if she wanted to get back inside, she'd have to do so without the very thing that was supposed to keep her safe.