We join a new juvie

Anna stirred, her head pounding like she’d been out drinking the night before. But this didn’t feel like a hangover. It was heavier, fuzzier, like the ache was behind her eyes instead of in her skull.

She blinked at the ceiling. The light fixture above her was a star-shaped plastic one, the sort of thing she’d expect in a child’s bedroom, not in her own. At least… she thought not in her own. Her chest tightened as she realized she couldn’t picture her own bedroom at all. What did her walls look like? Did she even have posters? A desk? The memories slipped through her grasp like soap in the bath.

She sat up slowly, the sheets slipping from her shoulders. They were unicorn patterned, sprinkled with glittery rainbows. Definitely not her taste. She looked around: a little shelf full of picture books, a basket of stuffed animals, a plastic nightlight shaped like a smiling bunny. The whole room radiated a childish warmth that felt both comforting and deeply wrong.

Then she felt it. Something soft and padded hugged her hips, crinkling faintly under her t-shirt. Her stomach dropped. Tugging the blanket back, Anna stared. It wasn’t a diaper, not quite. Pink pastel designs swirled over the front, tiny princesses smiling up at her. A pull-up. The kind kids wore during potty training.

She touched it with trembling fingers, half-hoping she was imagining things. The padding crinkled softly under her palm. Definitely real.

A hundred questions scrambled for attention in her head. Why was she wearing this? She was clearly too old for training pants, she had boobs, curves, a woman’s body. She wasn’t a toddler. She wasn’t.

Her heart thudded. She didn’t remember putting it on. She didn’t remember going to sleep here. She didn’t remember much of anything at all.

Then: knock, knock.

Anna froze. The sound was sharp against the soft pastel silence of the room. Someone was right outside the door.