'Drip, drip, drip.' The feeling of water falling on my cheek rouses me from my heavy sleep. It feels like there is a deep fog over my mind, preventing me from opening my eyes. It takes every ounce of my willpower to fight through the fog of unconsciousness and open my eyes.
There's an incessant pounding in my head that drives me to distraction, but I place it to the back of my mind for now. It takes a moment for my blurry vision to adjust to my surroundings, but when it does my mouth falls agape.
I'm in an abandoned mechanic's warehouse. There's heaps of unfinished car projects covered in tarp, tool boxes lying around, machines I've never seen and propped up cars in the air held by thick rusted chains.
The dim LED lights give the space an eerie feeling, and the smell of aged diesel makes me feel slightly nauseous. I push down the sick feeling and focus on getting up and out of here. I try to push off the ground with my hands, but realise I can't move my hands. They're tied up behind my back with a thick rope. I then notice that my feet stress also tied up in the same way.
Panic ensnares me and I want to scream out for help. The last bits of my sanity tell me that there is no point, it would only alert whoever has kidnapped me and put me in a worse position. So I clench my jaw tight and swallow down my cry for help.
No matter how hard I try to remain logical the panic starts to infiltrate my senses. All I can hear is the blood rushing to my ears, and my heart beating at a rapid rate.
My chest constricts and I feel the beginning of a panic attack coming on. So I force myself to unclench my jaw and take in deep breaths. I lay there immobile for a while, until my body and heart calm down to a point where I can hear myself think.
Now that I have control over my mind, I start wriggling around my restraints to see if I can find any gap to slip out from. My wrists start to ache and I feel bruises forming from the rubbing and chafing against the rope. I release a frustrated breath from my lack of success with the rope.
I decided to change tactics. I start rocking back and forth on my back. When I gain enough momentum I swing up onto my feet. Once my balance is stable, I stand upright. I scan the shop and a bud of hope sprouts when I spot a pair of shears standing up weight in a toolbox to my left. I waste no time hopping towards it.
When I reach the toolbox, I hear a car engine stop outside the warehouse. My heart sinks. I quickly place my hands between the two faces of the shears and make quick work of loosening the rope around my wrists.
Keys rattle against the door. My heart races in my chest. When I feel a large enough gap in the rope, I quickly hop back to my original position on the floor, just as the warehouse door creaks open.
I lay as still as possible, hoping they won't notice me. Or at least think that I'm still unconscious.
'Honey I'm home.' The man calls out.
Something about the tone of his voice feels familiar.
He chuckles to himself, almost as if it's an inside joke.
I don't react. He places his shopping bags down on the workbench closest to me. I hear him shuffling around. Then nothing but silence. The only thing I can feel is his beady eyes on me.
'Jas I know you're awake.' His voice is coming from above, as he looms over me.
My heart trembles, but I refuse to give up the act. 'The drugs I gave you wore off 10 minutes ago.' His voice is closer to me now. Something about the way he pronounces my name sounds familiar, but I can't put my finger on why.
All of a sudden I feel thick sausage fingers brush my hair behind my ear. I yelp and use my core to push myself up into a seated position.