Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

Why did—?
But then my eyes popped open wide, and I shot up in bed,
remembering last night.
“Hello?” I called out. “Is there anyone there?”
There was no answer, and I reached over, hitting my alarm
clock.
“Nine-thirty a.m.,” the clock said.
It was morning. Late morning. I never slept this late.
I plastered my hands to my body, inventorying my clothes.
I still wore my jeans and tank top, and I still had on my bra
and my ballet slippers.
I darted my hand to my jeans zipper, wincing just in case.
But my jeans were buttoned and zipped, and my body,
although tired, felt fine. I didn’t think he’d touched me. At
least not in that way.
Throwing off my covers, I swung my legs over the side
and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. How did I get in bed? I
wasn’t sure which was the least mortifying option. Actually
falling asleep after he’d scared me half to death and then him
putting me to bed or my parents finding me passed out in the
closet and discovering I’d been there the whole time. And
them putting me to bed. I almost didn’t want to leave the room
to find out the answer.
But I needed to face the music.
Standing up, I walked alongside my bed, toward the door,
but I accidently kicked something in my way and stopped.
I held out my hands, finding a cardboard box.
No, actually… Two cardboard boxes, stacked on top of
each other.
I opened the top one and reached hesitantly inside, feeling
wood, ceramic, glass, and clay. There were miniature trees,
glitter-capped roofs, and models of houses, buildings, and a
clock tower.