For a moment she didn’t open her eyes, afraid that the simple action would make her headache more painful. She tried to raise a hand to her forehead, but realized she couldn’t move her arms. Her eyes snapped open and she looked around wildly. Her hands were tied behind her back, stretching her shoulder muscles painfully. Her ankles were also tied, to lower rungs on the wooden chair where she sat in a tiny kitchen she’d never seen before. Predawn light seeped in through dirty muslin curtains at one of two small windows in the room. The living room was next to the kitchen, and from her vantage point she could see a broken-down maroon sofa, a matching recliner and that was all. She would have screamed but duct tape kept her lips pressed tightly together and made only moans and grunts possible. The only sound was the frantic beat of her heart and the ever-present banging in her head. She felt slightly nauseous, but didn’t know if it was because of her yawning fear or whatever had been used to knock her unconscious.
