When the only daughter of a small-town detective Cheryl Mason went for a spring party at her school mate house, she faced an irremediable calamity that led to her kidnapping in a bathroom.
Without knowing, she is transferred from her state to anoth...
"I'm just gonna grab some water," I called out, barely audible over the thrum of the pounding music.
"Sure, could you snag me a bottle?" Mal batted her lashes, her lips curling into the sweetest, most innocent smile.
I wobbled slightly, already feeling the effects of the three shots I'd thrown back in under five minutes. My body swayed as I navigated the crush of people on my way to the kitchen. If I wasn't this far gone, I'd have been appalled by the chaos around me, like I usually would be.
But right now, none of it mattered. I weaved through the sea of bodies until I reached the fridge, where a couple was too busy swallowing each other to notice me. Sighing, I grabbed a probably used plastic cup from the counter and shoved it under the faucet.
If Dad found out I'd snuck out the window while grounded, he'd be furious. He'd probably bring up that whole "you know better" speech again. But in my defense, Mal talked me into it. And with the school constantly nagging him about my isolation all three years of high school, I figured a little rebellion wouldn't hurt.
The truth is, my dad, detective of Eureka Springs, kept a tight grip on my life. Under his watch, nothing ever happened to me. It was a promise he made to my mom when she left us for her shiny new family in Washington.
Eureka Springs used to be known for its calm, until five years ago, when bodies started showing up on doorsteps, marked with two cryptic letters carved into their foreheads: "FH." Written in their own blood, no less. It was horrifying and confusing all at once.
Mom always wanted us to move away, but with Dad as the lead detective and me just months from graduating, I told her we'd be fine. Besides, I had my eyes set on WSU, so I could be closer to her and my stepdad soon enough.
I took a long sip from my cup, trying to soothe the dryness in my throat, then made my way toward Declan Carter's bathroom. I'd lost track of how many bathroom trips I'd made that night, my bladder was protesting all the alcohol my mouth kept downing.
The hallway was lined with barely-conscious bodies slumped against the narrow walls, drunk out of their minds. Thankfully, there was no line for the bathroom. The people around me looked half-dead from my blurry perspective.
With a shake of my head to keep from drifting off, I opened the bathroom door and slipped inside, shutting it behind me. Alone at last.
I quickly lowered my pants and underwear, settling down on the toilet, just wanting to relieve the ache in my bladder.
That's when it happened. A tall, imposing figure, dressed head to toe in black, silently slid out from behind the shower curtain. He stood there, still as a shadow. My dilated pupils struggled to make out his features, and for a second, it seemed like he had no face at all, or maybe I was too petrified to focus.
My body froze, my pee cutting off as panic set in.
Before I could react, his strong arms trapped me, pinning me to the seat as a cloth was shoved over my mouth and nose. I tried to scream, to fight him off, but my muscles were already going slack, my vision blurring. The room started spinning, and then everything went dark.
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