Lisa woke up to darkness.
The 9-year old yawned. To her right, her stuffed rabbit was partly squashed under her head, acting like a second pillow.
“Sorry, Sandy,” Lisa whispered; moving her toy aside. She couldn't have slept for that long. No light came from behind the curtained windows, nor any sounds telling her it was morning. Her parents were likely in their room, fast asleep. The whole house was absolutely quiet.
Too quiet.
Lisa sat up from her bed. Something wasn’t right.
She looked around. Her room seemed normal enough. Even in the dark, she recognized her bedside flower lamp, her dollhouse at the corner, and her desk piled with drawings and schoolwork. She even recognized the fairytale books on her shelf, though she couldn't make out the words.
She looked down at herself. Same pink pajamas, decorated with little butterflies. Yet something was still bugging her.
Brushing off some golden-blond hair near her eyes, Lisa slipped out of her bed, and stood up on her small bare feet. Maybe she needed to go to the bathroom?
She walked up to the door. Turning the knob (which was around the same level as her nose), she slowly swung it open to find…