𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙖 || 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Old thoughts.

"Ugh..." You groaned with weak voice.

You tried to open your eyes only to squint under faint lights.

Your body felt numb.

The softness of the sheets underneath you gently touched your skin, and there was a  silent coldness on your left stomach.

You pushed yourself up against your elbows as your eyes started to get accustomed to the lighting, slowly getting up.

Where am I?

You lost your grip on your elbows, losing the sensation in your body for a second. Your eyes went wide as you fell back down onto the bed.

Where did this bed come from? Wait, is this a bed?

You surveyed the room, observing the place you've found yourself in.

It was quiet and you couldn't feel any human presence. It felt safe.

There wasn't much besides the few shelves and supplies in the room, a TV, boxes, an air conditioner, your bag hung on one of the hooks on the shelves.

Then there was a few pictures stuck on the wall that you strangely felt drawn to.

What caught your eyes the most though was the used red gauze and medical tools laying on the floor around it. Bloody cotton buds, Needles pinned to cushions, one of them with a red string on it, which seemed to have been white once. Antiseptic bottles, numbing cream, bandages. Huh?

That's when the past few hours came into your mind.

Right.

A stupid move by a stupid person cause she let her stupid guard down.

You shook your head.

You quickly leaned against the...bed. Sofa? Your body refused to panic. You took a breath, now more aware of yourself. And you felt a little clutch in your stomach.

You looked down at yourself, blinking confusedly. This wasn't the shirt you had on earlier.

Wh-What the hell?

You picked up the corners of the shirt.

Your wound was stitched up. Hand-stitched, you could tell apart the mart nylon thread. But it was done neatly, perfectly. Something that probably a doctor, or a tailor, would have done.

Did I go to the hospital...?

You nibbled on your lip nervously.

When did I change clothes? Who changed it? Where am I? Did I get kidnapped? Your mind started racing. No, that guy said he wouldn't, he looked trustable...I hope. The short one knew my name, of course. No, did they kidnap me? What if-

Oh shush. You slapped yourself lightly on the cheek. You're alive right? We'll figure it out from here.

Slowly, very gently, you tried to get up. Pressing against the sofa bed (Do I call it sofa or bed? Let us go with the bed I ALRIGHT) you hoisted yourself up, that is before you fell onto it.

A sliding door was built right opposite you, maybe there was someone outside. And hopefully, they were not kidnappers.

You got yourself to get up, using as much as strength you could muster. You hung onto anything that could support you even a bit. The shelves were a huge help, and you also noticed piles of comics on them and smiled, maybe the kidnappers would let you read it while you're here.

You were almost at the door when suddenly your eye caught a better site of something.

Behind the boxes on the shelves, between the boards, those few photos stuck on the wall.