Behind the Mask

(2) It's a Lovely Night for a Stroll

2
It’s a Lovely Night for a Stroll


“Ugh,” I groan as voices break through the darkness. Grogginess continues to hold me in its embrace and I fight to open my eyes. I can hear people talking, but I can’t seem to make out what they’re saying. They sound distant. Or maybe the fog in my brain has something to do with it. I can’t tell. My eyes flutter open for a split second and I’m greeted with darkness. For a minute my brain convinces me I’m in my room and to just go back to sleep.

“Okay,” I murmur, my eyes falling closed again. I try to move to a more comfy position and confusion momentarily breaks through the haze when I can’t move my arms. “What?”

Almost dazedly I force my eyes open and look behind me. My wrists are tied. Why are my wrists tied? Then everything comes slamming back to me all at once. Stayton and the blue eyed guy. They kidnapped me. Just like that the haze cracks and disappears and I open my eyes wide. It’s almost pitch black in the room save for a small window up by the roof. The air is cold, cold enough to make my teeth slightly chatter.

I try to scan the area but my eyes haven’t adjusted to the darkness yet. Panic starts to set into my bones. Where am I? What do these guys want with me? Why am I tied up? Where are they? Wait, I can hear voices, that wasn’t in my head. Yet I still can’t make out what their saying. So they are in this place with me. I need to get out. I need to get away.

Rubbing my hands together, I frown slightly as the ropes don’t budge at all. A dull aching pain thumps through my wrists and it makes me wonder, just how long have I been tied up here? My mind starts to run wild. Hours? Days? Has anyone noticed I’m gone? Are they worried? Daniel would call the police as soon as he got home. I know he would. That thought puts me at a tiny bit of ease but not much. What do they say about kidnapped victims? After 24 hours it’s almost impossible to find them. I just hope it hasn’t been that long.

Leaning my head back, I realize with a start that I’m tied to a beam. I run my thumbs over it. It’s surpsingly choppy, not smooth as one would guess. Maybe if I press hard enough I can fray the ropes, I think while biting my lip.

“. . .been hours, shouldn’t we know by now?” A voice floats up to me and panic burns through my body as I recognize it to be Stayton’s. I strain to listen for the answer but it’s hushed. I squeeze my eyes closed. It’s been hours. I wonder how many. It’s still dark out, but that doesn’t help me much. It stays dark until almost seven this time of year. Am I going to die here? No, blue eyes was adamant they didn’t want to hurt me. But then why tie me up? And what did Stayton stab into my neck?

Isn’t that obvious? A needle, dumbass. Even in times of danger my inner voice still manages to be a asshole. I know it was a needle. But what was in it? Something to make transporting me easier, I guess. Taking a deep breath, I open my eyes again and pure shock courses through me as my eyes take in my surroundings.

Wait. I recognize this. Disbelief hums through me as shapes form in the darkness. A lump that could only be a couch is on the far side of the wall, a bookcase standing tall beside it. There is a door to the left of me that I know leads into a bedroom. Then on the far right of the room there is a staircase that leads downstairs and I know that the second step to the top is missing. My eyes widen even more as I look to my right and see another door.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say, absolutely stunned, “This is my goddamn guest house.”

Wait, wait, wait. They kidnapped me and brought me to my own guesthouse? What? What is going on?

A small smirk plants itself on my lips and I start to feel my panic dissipate. This is a good thing. I know this place. I know all of its quirks. I know where you shouldn’t step if you want to stay out of the crawl space. I know—wait. This is my guesthouse. That means this is my beam. And on this beam there is a sharp jut about a quarter of the way up that could easily cut through my ropes.