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Well, as welcoming as it can be when you find yourself kidnapped and you haven’t got the faintest idea where you are, who took you, or where your cell phone is.
Who took me?
Fear slams through me again.Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm,I chant again.
At least I didn’t wake up in a shipping container, or a dark, smelly room. That’s something to be grateful for, right?
This is more like luxury living. So maybe I’m not a case of human trafficking… yet. The thought is only slightly comforting.
I’m alive. That’s the main thing. I can cope with anything else… I hope.
Who kidnapped me, though? And why? Where are they now?
These thoughts are running in a loop.
There has to be a way out of this. But my brain is cloaked in cotton wool. I can’t form a rational thought.
I take a few steadying breaths and take in my surroundings some more. The curtains are only half closed and sway gently in the breeze. There must be an open window. Could I escape through it?
Then there’s a door to my right. Does it lead to the rest of the house?
The bed itself is tucked into the back left area of the suite. There’s another door diagonally in front of me. It’s slightly ajar and soft light shines through the crack… the bathroom, perhaps.
I gingerly swing my legs over the side of the bed. God, why is every single muscle in my body so sore? My feet touch soft carpet as I slide off the rather high bed.
Whoa… my head spins, and I hold on to the bed to steady myself in case I fall.
On weak legs, I make my way to the bathroom.
I use the toilet and splash water on my face. My skin is so dry—I need some moisturizer. To my surprise and utter shock, a few of my toiletries are neatly lined up on the bathroom counter, a beautiful hibiscus flower placed in the center.
What the heck?
I open one drawer and find a new toothbrush and toothpaste. In another drawer, my makeup is beautifully arranged. I frown at my reflection in the mirror.
Why is all my stuff here?
Shit. None of this makes any sense.
What does it all mean? I wish my head would stop pounding and allow me to think.
Unsure about what to do next, I leave the bathroom and walk to the swaying curtains. A sliding glass door is half-open, and there’s a balcony but I don’t walk out.
God knows who might see me. We’re high up, I can tell that much. There’s no jumping down.
Dammit!
As I walk to the only other door in the room, I stare at it, debating whether I should test to see if it’s locked. Surely they wouldn’t just let me walk out?
But what if it isn’t locked and this is my only chance to escape?
I’m exhausted, my limbs are weak, and my head is clouded. I’m ready to collapse.
I stare at the door a while longer.
Just get on with it.
I go to the door and put my ear to it, listening for any noise.
