I Don't Like Repeating Myself

She woke up in a dark room, only the beam of light from outside shown through the window. Her mind began racing. Oh God, Jack! She frowned. Looking around the room, she surveyed her surroundings. Nadia looked down at her hands, expecting them to be bound, only they were free. She ran her hands along with the silky black bed sheet. The cover was placed neatly over her, almost as if someone had taken care to tuck her in.

 If this were Jack's doings, he would have had her bound, hanging on the cross of Saint Andrews. So she could cross him off as her captor. Setting up from the bed, she placed her feet on the plush white carpet. The room was huge; it took her the same length of time to cross her entire apartment as it did to make it to the door. She wiggled the door, and it swung open, revealing a long dark hallway. The only light was shining on the other side of it, coming from a cracked door.