I’d worn a blindfold only once before. It was my sixth birthday party. My parents had set up a game of pin the tail on the donkey. The donkey poster was taped to the wall and the tail, with its wicked drawing pin spike on the end was passed from my mother to my father as if it was a machete wrapped in dynamite.

“Be careful,” my father said as he passed it to me, my friends ranged behind us, watching in silence. A few seconds before, they’d been as loud as they were now quiet, an awed hush taking over as I held the tail in my hand.

I’d not played the game before and set off at once for the donkey, aiming for where I thought the tail should go. “Hang on,” my mother said to laughter from the other adults in the room. “You need the blindfold.”

It dawned on me then that life was a lot harder without being able to see. I was spun round three times and then sent stumbling towards where I thought the donkey was. I tripped over something and fell forwards, the tail catching in something a lot softer than the poster, my best friend Jenny’s leg.

She was already screaming by the time I got the blindfold off. I took one look at the pinprick of blood I’d caused and then promptly passed out.

I’d never worn a blindfold since. Until that car ride.

I felt the same sense of confusion that I’d felt as a child. Being unable to see was scary. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was going to get hurt. Only this time, with a strange man driving the car, I began to think it might be me.

Why had I agreed to this? I had no guarantees he was telling the truth. I had willingly stepped into his car without knowing where we were going or what was going to happen when we got there.

I could say it was because of the money, that I was blinded by the thought of so much money that it would solve all my problems.

That was in my thoughts, I’d be lying to say it wasn’t. But I was also riled when he talked about a story. Did I want to be left behind while his story continued with another woman in my place? Or did I want to take a risk? Take a shot? See where it took me?

It took ten minutes to decide after he left. At first, I was certain I wasn’t going anywhere. The aggression and power in his voice when he told me to sit down was scary enough. From looking at him, I got the feeling he was capable of far worse. He was not someone I wanted to spend any time with.

But as I thought about it, I weighed up my options. What else was I going to do? It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. It was take the risk and win or lose. Or stay where I was and definitely lose.

In the end, I got to my feet and let fate decide. If he was still out there after the ten minutes were up, I’d go with him. If he was gone, so be it. I told myself not to run, I managed to maintain a walking pace until I got outside and saw he was about to set off. I just made it.

The drive seemed to go on forever, not being able to see made it so much worse. The car came to a stop eventually though I’ve no idea how long it had been since we set off. It felt like an hour but for all I knew it might have been only a few minutes. Time went slowly when you couldn’t see anything, when all you could do was feel and hear.

He didn’t say anything until the engine was off. I heard his door open and then mine.

“Out,” he said, taking my arm and leading me into the open. I could hear gravel crunching under our feet. “Step up,” he said a second later and I did so, not wanting to trip.

I could tell when we crossed a threshold because the air changed, becoming warmer. I was inside. A door closed with an echoing thud. There was no other sound. Was this his house?

I went to take my blindfold off but he grabbed my hand, yanking it downwards. “Not until I say so,” he growled. “Now up these stairs.”

I almost stumbled on my way up, a vision of falling with the donkey tail coming unwarranted into my mind. But I wasn’t six anymore. I was an adult. So, why did I feel like a scared little girl, my arm clinging onto his for support as we reached a landing.

On we walked, around a corner until he stopped. I heard a key rattle in a lock and then a door opened. “Walk forwards,” he said. Another childhood image came unbidden into my mind as I did so, brought about by the change from carpet to wooden boards under my feet.

There was a kids gameshow that I used to love watching. One of the contestants wore a helmet that blocked their vision, the others guiding their movements around a medieval themed maze. “Left three paces…run backwards…pick up the fruit…there’s a dragon flying towards you,” that kind of thing.

I couldn’t shake the thought that I was about to walk into a dragon’s mouth, the image only fading when he said, “Take the blindfold off.”

I slipped it up and over my hair, looking around the room as he took the blindfold from me and folded it neatly. The room was bare. Nothing at all, no furniture, no carpet. Just whitewashed walls. No window. A bare lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. It felt like a prison cell.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I said, going to push past him. “I want to go home.”

“It’s too late for that,” he said, grabbing my shoulders, pushing me back against the wall. He was crushing me, his face inches from mine, so close I could see the darkness in his eyes.

I should have been terrified, his grip on my shoulders was painful enough to make me squirm. But all I could think about was how close he was, how I could feel the heat of his body against mine, his bulk squashing me deliberately, trying to make me as uncomfortable as possible. It felt good.

It should have frightened me beyond measure, trapped there with him between me and my way out. I was scared. But what I was scared of was the fact that I wasn’t scared of him.

Although, if I wasn’t scared of him, why was my throat dry and my heart thudding so painfully in my chest?