The first thing I became aware of was the feeling of movement, the feeling of bobbing up and down, like the way it felt on the yacht. That's where I thought I was at first. I thought maybe I was coming out of a particularly intense sex coma and that thought brought a smile to my lips.

I didn't want to open my eyes right away. In fact, I couldn't open my eyes, another physical sensation that made me think I was all safely snuggled up next to Adrian in bed. I felt so sleepy and distant and I could almost feel Adrian's fingers combing through my hair.

I let myself float in that feeling of bobbing up and down on the waves of the ocean and being cradled in Adrian's arms, even though I couldn't feel them around me. I knew they had to be there. Maybe he had gotten up to get some water or maybe he had fallen asleep.

But I knew at any second I would feel the tingle on my scalp as his fingers ran through my hair, or the brush of his fingers on my face as he moved a stray hair back that had become trapped in between my lips.

As I lay there waiting for the touch of his hands to bring me back to life, I tried to remember what we had just done. As I drifted, I tried to picture different moments I had had with Adrian, and my mind crossed them off one by one.

No, that was a week ago when he tied you on top of the barstools with your head hanging over the end of one of them. No, that was the other day when he watched you scrub the tile floor in the kitchen on your hands and knees while you kept your legs spread and your ass in the air.

I smiled at the thought of those past moments with Adrian, but then frowned because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember what it was we had just done to get me to this place of spacy, drifting, bliss. I was starting to have a funny feeling I wasn't where I thought I was. And as I became more aware of my surroundings, even with my eyes still closed, I started to realize this wasn't the exact same feeling.

I was more confused than any other time after sex with Adrian. And the fact that I couldn't remember what had happened started to alarm me. I felt like I couldn't get my brain to work properly. Instead of calm and spacy and happy, I realized my head felt more like a brick and my mouth felt dry and tasted of chemicals.

Then a rush of memories came flooding back to me as I attempted to open my eyes. Something about the light in the room jarred me out of the thick-headed feeling and I started to remember. Adrian was taking me somewhere. It was Gina. He was taking me to see Gina.

We were in a crowded marketplace and … Oh God. I'm not with Adrian.

I slowly opened my eyes as much as I could, but blinked to shield them from the light. There was only a long fluorescent light bulb that flickered close to the ceiling, but it still hurt my eyes. I moved my hands and all I could feel was a cold, hard floor. I realized that's what I was lying on. Not the soft, fluffy bed I had imagined.

I moved my hands to push myself up and heard the chain that had them cuffed together drag across the floor. That's when the complete realization came crashing down on me that I had been taken. Someone had done exactly what Adrian was afraid they were going to do. They took me away from him and he was never, ever going to find me.

A long, loud sob came from my mouth as I hung my head over my handcuffed wrists. They had won. And now I was on my way to some unknown place to live out the rest of my life as someone's property. My body shook as I pushed myself up and dragged my legs underneath me. Everything felt so heavy and weak and I barely had enough energy to get myself up into a sitting position as lay back against the wall.

I wiped my face with my hands but I couldn't stop the crying that was shaking my whole body.

I looked around the room. It was an old bathroom. I didn't know what kind of boat I was on, but everything in the room felt very old and industrial. Like an old Navy ship. There were three urinals on one wall and two stalls with doors and toilets inside on the opposite side of the room. There was a sink directly in front of me with multiple faucets and the fluttering florescent light I had noticed when I opened my eyes was positioned directly above them.

Everything in the room—the fixtures and the walls and the floor—were all dingy and chipped and cracked. It was hard to tell what the real color of anything was because all of the porcelain was gray with dark yellow stains and the walls almost looked brown.

I looked down at the filthy floor and could feel the residue of dirt and scum all over my hands and arms and legs.

I heard a grinding sound at the metal door that was to my left. I scooted along the wall to get farther away from the sound and watched in horror as it opened up with a shrill, creaky groan. A large, bald man came into the room with a tray and set it on the floor in front of me.

"Food," he said as he pointed at the tray on the floor.

"Toilet," he pointed again, but this time it was at the two stalls against the wall. I wasn't sure why he felt the need to tell me they were toilets, but he must have thought I didn't have that information. The man had only said two words, but I could definitely tell he had some kind of accent. He didn't look Indonesian but he looked like he could have been from an eastern country. Or maybe even the eastern part of Russia. His size and gruffness made me think that's where he was from. He turned and left the room, then closed the door and locked it behind him.

I sat there in shock, and stared at what looked like bread and gruel. I had stopped crying when the man came into the room, but my body was still shivering and I pulled my knees up to my body.

I sat there with my head lowered to my knees and drifted in and out again for what felt like hours. The smell of the bowl of thick soup filled the room and I thought multiple times if I had enough energy I would have flushed it down the toilet. But I could still barely move my arms and legs and keeping my eyes open felt impossible. I wanted to lie back down but the floor was so cold. But I knew I had no other place to sleep and that lying down on the filthy tile was inevitable, but I was trying to put it off for as long as possible.

I was jarred awake by the sound of the door opening again. It was the same man and he carried another tray into the room. He set the tray down next to the old one and looked up at me. He pointed at the tray and said food again, like he thought maybe I didn't understand what it was.

"Please," I said as the man picked up the tray and started to leave. He turned and looked at me like I was taking up his precious time, like he had big business outside the creaky door to attend to. "Can I have a blanket?"

I wasn't sure if he understood what I was asking so I rubbed my hands on my arms and said "Cold."

He grunted and left the room, locking the door behind him again. But he came back a few minutes later and threw an old blanket at me. It was scratchy gray wool, and smelled like a wet dog, but it was better than lying directly on the cold tile.

Now that I was awake again I was starting to get really hungry. I also needed to use the bathroom. I pushed myself up using the wall behind me and stood there for a moment, because standing up made me incredibly dizzy.

I hugged the dingy wall as I shuffled over to one of the stalls, and when I got inside I shut the door and locked it in case someone came back into the room. Luckily there was toilet paper still in the dispenser. And even though it seemed incredibly old and fragile it worked well enough to cover the seat.

I sat on the toilet for a long time after I'd finished because it was infinitely more comfortable than sitting on the cold floor. But eventually I got up and flushed the toilet. I quickly unlocked the stall door and jumped out as it started flushing because suddenly I realized anything could happen with that old toilet.

I was worried it could overflow or come splashing back out at me and cover me with cold, nasty water, but nothing happened. It just made some weird clanking, groaning sounds and went silent.

I walked over to the sink and washed my hands and looked up at what appeared to function as the mirror. It was a piece of polished stainless steel that spanned almost the entire wall, and reflected a warped and distorted image of myself back to me.

In the mirror I looked gray and thin and my eyes took up half of my face and that sight made me even more sad and depressed than I already was, so I didn't look up at my reflection for very long. After I washed my hands I bent down and drank some water from the faucet. The water didn't taste very good, like it had been drained off of a bowl of loose change, but my throat was so dry I didn't care.

I went back and sat down near the tray of food. I had no idea how long I had been knocked out, but it felt like I hadn't eaten in days. I picked the tray up and set it in my lap but I was afraid to eat. I remembered that first week in the cavern under Adrian's villa. How they had kept the water drugged so that all I did was sleep the entire time.

It was a horrible feeling, losing control of my life while I slept in strange surroundings, but it was also a blessing because it helped me escape the reality of my prison. I was afraid the same thing was going to happen to me if I ate the soup, but the idea being drugged and unconscious now was even more terrifying.

In retrospect, what went on in Adrian's caverns was a vacation in paradise compared to where I was now and where I was headed.

I stared at the food for a long time, then brought some of it up to my nose, smelling it a few times and somehow imagining I would be able to detect the drugs that way. But I knew that was ridiculous and I was just stalling the inevitable.

I knew I was going to have to eat something, because I didn't know where I was or how long I was going to be here. But the alternative of letting myself die of starvation didn't really sound too bad the more I thought about it.

But what I wanted more than anything was to see Adrian again. I knew he would come looking for me. I just didn't know if he would be able to find me. And I knew I had to eat so I was able to fight back, if I ever had the chance.

I picked up the plastic spoon they had given me and stirred the thick, beige soup. It looked like watery oatmeal and smelled like rotten fish, neither of which were even remotely appealing. But I took a little bit on the spoon and tested it on my tongue, then waited to either vomit or pass out. Neither one of those things happened. It actually was like salty, watery oatmeal with a little bit of a fishy flavor, which really wasn't that bad. So I took another few bites and hoped I was doing the right thing.