I’m in deep shit.

My first instinct is to reach up and gently touch the sore spot on my head, just behind my ear. It aches something fierce. This is also the moment I realize that I can’t separate my hands, they’re tied tightly together. I move both of my hands simultaneously to touch the small bump that feels like it is growing by the minute. It’s tender to the touch and I pull my fingers away with a gasp.

I look around, and my surroundings come into focus. Clarity returns with the flicker of the light and the soft clang of the rusty pipes above. I’m lying on the floor of a metal cage, or a room in a basement somewhere. I almost hope it’s a basement, because the alternative is too terrifying. I definitely seem to be resting on some sort of a cold, metallic material. Or maybe one of those shipping containers that sits by the docks, waiting to be loaded onto a cargo ship. My blood is ice cold and I start to shake violently.

I’ve been fucking kidnapped.

My realization is stuck on repeat. Over and over again, it sits there and I don’t have the means to process it. Kidnappings happen in Lifetime movies and to people who live in New York City. But not to everyday, normal people like me. There’s nothing special about me. Not a small town girl from Oakville, Iowa trying to make a go at life in the city.

I’m still wearing my black party dress and white athletic socks. Except that they aren’t white anymore. They’re full of black streaks as if I was dragged through a field of mud before I was tossed like a rag doll in here.

Everything comes flooding back to me. Coming home from the party, creeping into my apartment, my landlord banging on the door while I remained still, barely even daring to breathe. And then I remember how the door to my apartment opened and how I felt like I was trapped, knowing something bad was about to happen.

Maybe I’m in the basement of our building? I hope it’s true, because if I’m still in the basement, I can get out of here and get help. Anger flares inside of me when my landlord’s face enters my mind. Whether he is a deranged pervert, or he’s selling me to a deranged pervert, I don’t want any part of this nightmare.

There’s a steel door in front of me but I don’t see any kind of door handle. I crawl on my knees as best I can toward the door and then run my hands over it, searching for anything I could use to help me escape.

There’s nothing. No hinges, no latches, no keyholes. It’s just a solid slab of metal and I have no idea how to open it. Still on my knees, I use my weight to push against the door. When it doesn’t budge, I sit down and resort to kicking at it. A loud banging sound reverberates around the space, echoing off of the cold, steel walls. When I pause to catch my breath, I hear a softer sound coming from behind me.

Moving closer to the pipes, I stand close and listen. There’s a section of the pipes within arm’s reach that I might be able to unscrew. My wrists are burning against the restraints but I find a rhythm and am able to get the section to budge. Every sound is amplified tenfold because of the material of the walls. I’m making a lot of damn noise, and it isn’t conducive to a successful escape.

I twist the cap on the pipe one more time and freeze. When I press my ear against the opening, the noise becomes clearer: it’s a voice.

“Be quiet or they’ll gas you,” it’s saying. “They don’t like noise.”

I want to reply, but I don’t know what to say. There isn’t time, anyway. Within the next few seconds, a sound like air leaking from a balloon fills the room and a white mist begins to form above me. I drop down to the floor but there’s nothing to keep me from breathing the gas. My black skirt is the only material around so I pull it up to my face and breathe through it.

My attempts are pointless because eventually the gas will find me. I can’t hold my breath forever. When my lungs begin to burn, I breathe in, unable to fight the impending blackness.

* * *

I have no sense of time when I regain consciousness again. It could be a day since I was taken, or more. With my hands still tied, I roll on my side and try to sit up. Instead of waking with the same fighting spirit, it is replaced with the desire to have a proper breakdown. But then, right when I’m at the brink, I remember the pipe behind me. Mustering the last of my strength, I pull myself back to my feet.

“Hello?” I shout into the opening, standing on the tips of my toes.

My ear is pressed against the pipe while I wait to hear a response. I wasn’t hallucinating, I know what I heard.

“Hello?” I shout again, louder this time.

“Shhh, you have to be quiet,” I hear someone say through the pipe, her response almost immediate.

Oh my God! I don’t know if I’m relieved or terrified that there’s someone else down here with me. At least I know I’m not going crazy.

“Hello,” I say again, trying to be a little quieter this time. “Where are we? Who are you?” I ask, trying to get as many questions in as I can so she keeps talking to me.

“You need to be quiet or they’ll gas you,” she says.

“They already did,” I say. There is so much I want to know but I can’t think rationally. “Who are you? How long have you been here?”

“They’re going to come for you. Just cooperate,” she says.

“They? Who’s ‘they’?” This throws me for a bit of a loop. I just assumed I was down here in the basement being held by my landlord. This woman makes it sound like there is more than one person holding us against our will. And who is this woman? It’s possible that she also lived in the building. I didn’t know anyone else there; I hadn’t lived there that long.

“Stop talking,” she says. “They’re coming.”

I grab the piece of pipe that I had set on the floor and screw it back into place. Then I turn around and face the door, trying to decide what I’ll do when he opens it. Catching him by surprise is my best bet. If I fly at him as soon as the door opens, I might be able to knock him off his feet and make a break for the exit. I’m not just going to sit here, I tell myself. I’m going to make it as hard as possible for him.

There’s some sort of commotion just outside, but I stay where I am, trying to be fearless when my fear is actually consuming me. Finally, the door slides open and I make my move. Without hesitating, I leap forward and crash into the person in front of me. It’s like hitting a brick wall. The next thing I know, I’m falling backwards, back into my prison cell. I land with a hard thud that knocks the air right out of me.

I’m gathering my breath, trying to shake away the dizziness from my fall when I look up to see three creatures standing above me. All of the fight I initially felt leaves me and I’m left empty and confused. It’s like I’m looking at lizards that are standing on two feet and wearing uniforms. They’re a sickly green color with what looks to be scales covering their limbs. My eyes are drawn to their hands. Their fingers are unusually long, with thick knuckles and sharp claws at the end where nails would normally be. They look at me with eyes that are too big for their heads, with nothing but black centers that hold no emotion. It isn’t until one of them reaches for me and another flicks his long, forked, lizard tongue toward me that I finally come to my senses and scream.