Sarah Connor

She wakes up.

There's more to it than that, but she wakes and she doesn't know where she is, doesn't hear her father shuffling around in the room below and she doesn't know why there are weapons under her bed or why her wrist is in a sling when she feels just fine. She curls up her fingers to test it, but they work, and when she sits up, her clothes fall off her frame slightly.

It's too hot outside. California is warm, but it shouldn't be this warm. Her first instinct is that she's late for her shift and that the dog isn't coming, not even when she whistles. For the first time since she's woken up, Sarah is beginning to panic. She takes in deep breaths and tries to get her footing about her, the dark sweatpants falling until she yanks them up by the hem. Nothing is familiar, not a single thing.

"Dad?" she calls out tentatively, hitching up the sleeve of her tank top as she opens the front door to the blazing sun in front of her. She winces and keeps walking, wearing nothing but her pajamas and in her bare feet. "Dad?" she calls out again, slightly more worried than before. "Max? Dad?" Sarah stops when she gets to a fork in the road, staring cluelessly out between them and running a hand through her messy hair.

She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know where she is or where she's supposed to go.