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My eyelids are so heavy it’s an effort to drag them open.
I try and fail multiple times, especially when I register the dull pounding of my head. Everything feels sore, and when I try to move my arms, I find that I can’t.
So strange.
It would be easy to drift back to sleep, but there’s a nudge at the back of my mind telling me that something’s wrong, that I need to get up and get out.
When the grogginess wears off slightly, I finally force my eyes open, waiting patiently for my sight to clear.
When the blurriness subsides and the brain fog clears, Warren’s room comes into focus.
Warren. The red stiletto. Lily.
Shit!
It all rushes back to me, and I try to stand only to discover that I’m anchored in place. Confused, I glance down.
I’m sitting in the cushioned chair that was in Warren’s closet, but I’m in his bedroom. There’s rope around my wrists, securing them to the armrests, and panic rises.
“Oh, thank goodness, you’re up!”
Warren sets down a pack of frozen peas that was pressed against his head, standing from where he was leaning on the couch.
I look around the room in a last-ditch effort to prove to myself that this is all a huge misunderstanding. The television behind him is still set to the same music channel, softly playing a song I’ve never heard. The snacks are still on the coffee table, and my notebook is still open to the page we were working on. Everything about the scene in front of me looks normal—everything except me tied to a chair in the middle of Warren’s bedroom.
Without looking away from Warren, I subtly move my feet, making a mental note that my legs aren’t tied down, only my arms. Maybe I can come up with some sort of plan to get out of here.
My hope isn’t lost, and neither is my will to fight. I don’t know how I’ll get the bindings off my hands, and the last time I saw my phone it was face down on the floor in Warren’s closet, but there has to be a way out.
“You were only out for a few minutes, if that,” Warren continues, then points to a bag of frozen corn on the table. “I brought that for you; I figured you’d have a killer headache, and we only had one bag of peas.”
Is he actually trying tojokewith me right now?
“What the hell, Warren? Let mego.”
His eyes widen as he straightens up. “Oh no, Siena, that’s not . . . I just want to explain. I’m sorry for tying you up, but I think you put a dent in my head, and I didn’t want a repeat.”
Iput a dent inhishead? I’m the one who blacked out and woke up tied to a chair!
“Okay, fine, you just want to explain. Why can’t you do thatwithoutstrapping me to a chair like I’m a damn hostage? I thought you were myfriend, Warren!”
It was supposed to be a fun day with my friend, then ice cream with Jason. A thought occurs to me. “Jason knows I’m here, and he’s going to wonder why I never called him to come pick me up. Let me go before you make things worse for yourself.”
Warren chews on his lip, mulling it over. “If I untie you, promise you won’t run?”
“Promise.” The lie slips quickly from my lips, maybe too quickly to be believable.
Warren grimaces, like he knows I’m not going to like what he’s about to say. “I will untie you, I swear, and I’m sorry for hurting you, that was never, ever my intention.
But just hear me out first, okay? I didn’t hurt Lily.”
He didn’t hurt Lily? Hedidn’t hurt Lily? The statement is almost laughable.
“If that’s true, then why do you have her shoes? They were one of the last things she was seen wearing. And why is therebloodon one? Why is it hidden in your closet instead of with the cops as evidence? And why am I tied up in your goddamn room?”
“Okay, yes, I realize this all looks really bad. See, the thing is . . . I mean . . . oh man, how do I say this? Lily is . . .”
“Right here.”
