Come to think of it, she doesn’t even know WHO she is. Confusion seems to be the order of business, and she has absolutely no idea why. The only thing she knows for certain is that it is dark, cold, smells odd, and she is hurting.

She lets out a sudden whimper as a glut of visceral fear gives her stomach a hard twist. She has no idea where it is coming from, but it blindsides her. The terror starts winding its way up from her gut, driving along her spine, and rushes into her brain. She catches her breath as the flush of warmth spreads over her face. She thinks she is going to vomit and swallows hard. She feels a wet tear streaming across her cheek.

A moment later, the fear passes with the same urgency and no more warning than when it had attacked. Again, it seems easier to just forget than to try analyzing it. The question ‘why’ seems so moot.

She decides to move.

“Oh, that’s right,” she thinks to herself. “I can’t move.”

She wriggles her hands, but that only serves to make her wrists hurt more. She tries to move her feet and they hurt too, but there is something more.

She moves her feet again and hears the splashing sound of water. She can feel it against her skin, but it isn’t the soothing sensation one would expect. It actually feels as if her feet have been soaking for days.

“Why are my feet in water?” she wonders to herself and then answers the query within the same stream of thought. “Good question. Where am I again?”

She moves her feet and listens closely. Other than the sound of the water, it is quiet.

It’s almost too quiet.

She doesn’t like that at all. She wishes it wasn’t so still. It can’t be this quiet.

She stops moving and listens.

Distant footsteps.