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The man was startled, not expecting to find me untied. He stumbled backward, leaving me enough room to pop out and take off running. I didn't look where I was going; I just ran. I darted towards the treeline and kept moving.

“Fuck! She fucking took off! Get your ass out of the car!”

There's more than one. . . Fuck! Who are these people?

“What the hell happened? How did she get loose?” The other man barked as he shot out of the car.

“Fuck if I know. She went that way!”

“Well, don't just stand there! Let's go fucking get her!”

I was already moving quickly, but when I heard that man yelling, I ran. I ran as hard and fast as I could. I broke through bushes and crashed through sharp branches. But they were always on my heels. Following. Tracking. Hunting.

No matter how fast or how far I had run, they always seemed to be two steps behind me. I found a little ravine on the mountainside and tucked myself inside. The men appeared above me, talking out a plan, knowing I was close but not knowing how close I actually was. The men took off in different directions. I waited a few moments, then darted back in the direction I had come.

If I could get to the car, I might be able to get away. It was still running when I broke free. The keys should be inside, and I could drive off. Adrenaline fueled me like dry debris fed a fire. But I made a mistake. I thought I had outsmarted the men by doubling back to the road. The silence of the forest was a trick. The adrenaline that ran through my veins, percolating like hot coffee, made me think I was in control.

A set of arms flew out from behind a tree, capturing me around the waist. The man lifted me off the ground and spun me around, slamming my back against the tree.

“You stupid fucking girl.” His face was masked by a sheet of darkness. “This was the wrong move.”

“No! Let me go!” I wiggled and kicked. I punched blindly, connecting with his body.

The man used his weight to pin me against the tree. He gripped both my wrists, forcing them over my head. I couldn't move. I was trapped again. “Enough!” he yelled.

My eyes were full of tears. I couldn't see the man's face as the wind blew the treetops and the moon cast down a beam of faint light. He was warped like a Picasso painting, blurry and smeared. “Let me go! Please, just let me go!” I was begging him to set me free. “Why are you doing this?” My voice softened as I cried. “You don't have to do this.”

“I told you to shut the fuck up.” He took both my wrists in one of his bear-sized hands and held them tight. “Your pleading won't get you out of this.”

“You don't have to do this! Just let me go!” I wailed, inhaling deep, petrified breaths. Each breath was more intense and fearful than the last.

“God just shut the fuck up,” the man snapped. He used his free hand to pull something shiny out from behind his back. As he lifted his arm, the moonlight caught a piece of the metal object.

That's a gun. . .

“Please, don't kill me. My father has money,” I said frantically, trying to keep his attention so he didn't do something stupid. “He'll—”

Thwap!

The man brought the butt of the gun down hard on my temple, knocking me out cold. In an instant, everything was gone. The sky, the man, the cold, the world: all of it was gone as he sent me spiraling into unconsciousness.

When I opened my eyes, I was looking up at a ceiling fan. It had three blades rotating with a slow, sloppy wobble. Dust soiledall the edges like mud around the sole of a sneaker. There was a musty scent that soured the air.

I rubbed my eyes. They felt dry and itchy, and my throat hurt when I swallowed. The right side of my head throbbed. I softly touched my temple with the pads of my fingers, gingerly examining the tender lump.

What the hell happened? Where am I now?

I slowly pushed myself up from the small cot I was lying on and looked around. There was a door across from me, a window to my right, a small stool, and a cot. That was it. There was nothing on any of the cracked, dirty plaster walls. Not a picture. Not wallpaper. Not even crown molding to show the room had once held some sort of meaning other than a tomb. The floor was old, dull wood that was buckling in random places. The ceiling was speckled with dark orange water spots and giant cobwebs as thick as cotton candy in the corners.

Confusion smothered me. I couldn't think. I couldn't remember. I couldn't feel. My brain was trying desperately to grasp everything all at once, but it wasn't making sense. The room didn't make sense. The cold chill rippling through my body didn't make sense. The rancid air didn't make sense.

I twisted on the cot and set my bare feet down on the icy floor. The silk of my dress pooled in my lap like red water. I looked down at my toes. They were purple in color because it was so cold in the room. My fingertips were almost completely numb. I tapped the pads of my fingers together, then rubbed them harder, trying to bring them back to life.

What the hell is happening?

Where the hell am I?

I stood up, my legs shaky and weak but steady enough to stagger over to the window. The glass behind the boards was opaque with a yellow film. I rubbed the side of my palm in small circles, creating a tiny ecliptic opening. I pressed my eye to theglass but couldn't see anything. No sky. No trees. No water. Just the darkness of night.