The second thing was the pain.

It hit her like a freight train the moment she tried to open her eyes. A pounding, throbbing ache that seemed to originate from somewhere deep behind her temples and radiate outward, making her skull feel too tight for her brain.

She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, groaning.

Her bedroom was quiet. Too quiet. The usual sounds of the morning—her dad clattering around in the kitchen, her sister’s pop music blasting from down the hall, her mom calling up the stairs—were absent.

When she pulled her hands away, there was blood on them.