It occurs to you, as you slowly open your eyes in an unfamiliar location, that maybe this isn't a set up. That rather than N'Jadaka trying to be funny and prove a point, you really got kidnapped by the winds of fate stirring up an ironic coincidence. Maybe, the gods saw fit to tell you you aren't allowed to actually go on a 'date' like a normal person. Maybe you need to let guys short change you and give you a box of Popeye's and a Red Box and call it a night.
Never.
You blink against the harsh lighting hanging from the ceiling above you, wondering when you passed out and why. Your head doesn't hurt, but you can't check for any lumps due to your hands being bound behind your back with zip ties. But you do notice the pocket knife sticking out of your left thigh and it takes a second for your brain to realize what's happening.
As you stare in complete disbelief at the dried blood staining your jeans it all starts to come back to you; the last couple hours or so feeling like a fever dream.
That Man, reeking of liquor, had dragged you unceremoniously into the back corner of the floor and out the employee exit. He and whomever he was with managed to disable the alarm on that specific door and seemed to just be waiting for someone to pass by. It reminds you of Venus Flytraps and the way they catch bugs. You were compliant the entire time, fearing being shot too much to try and do something stupid like run, but something must have made you be even more stupid and try and stab him with your pocketknife.
Your mind seems blurry, but it must be why you currently have your meager weapon sticking out of your leg and why you'd passed out in the first place.
There's a noise from in front of you and you flinch, finally taking in your surroundings once the initial shock has worn off. The room you're in is small and relatively featureless, no furniture no television, nothing but you and a couple stained boxes in the furthest corner.
It smells like mildew and moth balls, and you scrunch your nose up. A terrible thought, but it reminds you of one of your aunts' basements. Dank and moist and unpleasant.
Your next thought is just as terrible: what if you die tonight? What if, you never make it out of this shithole room all because you wanted to go see an art exhibit. It starts to sadden you to think of what your parents would think and feel, but a voice in the back of your mind is outright screaming at you to shut up and start finding a way out of this.
There isn't any way for you to get your hands out of the tight zip ties, so despite the initial glee you felt for having your knife it's basically useless. Sydney's the weirdo who can completely bend her arms around and over the top of her head, but not you. They'd just pop out of the sockets and leave you even more fucked up.
You sigh in frustration, trying to at least shimmy the knife out of your leg to maybe relieve some of the dull ache you feel. However, you only succeed in irritating the wound, sending a shockwave of pain throughout your leg that you feel all the way up to your damn neck and you grit your teeth so hard you're afraid they'll break.
At least you have health insurance for another couple weeks.
Feeling your back pockets you find that your cell phone is gone, as is your wristlet with everything that says who you are. Everything that will prove to the coroner's your identity so they don't call you 'Jane Doe.'
"Damn," you finally say, having exhausted all of your options. "I can't believe his ass was right."
The door suddenly opens, slamming hard against the wall and bouncing off it with a harsh bang. You flinch before quickly getting yourself together to stare hard at the obviously drunk piece of shit that managed to slip you right underneath N'Jadaka's nose. That is, unless it was a setup. The idea is still floating along in your brain.
