Disappeared

Winona

I came to, and the first thing that hit me was a migraine from the chloroform hangover.

I didn’t move. Waking up as a captive and waking up next to an angry, violent lover were very much the same.

I relaxed my body and kept my breathing slow. I listened for any sound—voices, TVs, footsteps, traffic outside; any clue that could tell me where I was.

I lay across a cushioned surface that felt much like a leather couch, and some cloth was draped over my body. I felt the tulle of my dress still wrapped around me, but the knife that should have dug into my ribs was gone.

My kidnapper had wrapped me in a blanket and laid me on a couch? Left me dressed? It seemed they’d be playing nice once they knew I was awake.

With just the sound of cars in the distance, I knew we must still be in the city, but whoever was with me, they weren’t giving much away. No one talked or walked around, and I couldn’t smell anything except . . . a hint of metal mixed with aftershave, like he’d washed away the