"Jacqueline!"
Mathieu shrieked in horror, slapping his palm dramatically against his forehead the way their mother used to when she caught them doing something outrageously foolish.
"Where are we?" he demanded in exaggerated disbelief, hopping off the bed and striding toward her, eyes wide as he scanned the unfamiliar room as though expecting it to dissolve.
Then his gaze landed fully on her face.
He froze.
"What happened to your face?" he asked, voice cracking with shock as his eyes widened even further.
Instinctively, she turned away. She had no makeup here nothing to conceal the bruises blooming across her skin.
"I… uh… I fell," she said lightly. "It was pretty bad. Thank God my teeth are still intact."
She tried to make the last part sound comical, casual normal.
But nothing about this was normal.
"Jacqueline," he pressed, his voice losing its theatrics. "Where are we? Where's Dad? What's happening?"
The questions came one after another, frantic and relentless.
