"Hey Vickie!" I call out to the brunette girl next to the treadmill. My friend Vickie turns around, and greets me with a smile and a wave. We've been going to the gym together for about a year, and her support is what got me to exercise on a regular basis.
"Hey Casey!" she chirps when I reached her, and we start on our workout. We get caught up chatting, and between that and the new routine we're trying, we lose track of time and finish nearly an hour later than normal. Realizing how late it is, we head to the showers.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you, but there's this new lotion I got that you totally need to try." Vickie holds up a normal-looking bottle, of some brand I've never seen. "I've been using it for the last few days and my skin has been SO. SMOOTH." Well, Vickie's almost never steered me wrong, so after our showers I take out a few dollops and spread it around my arms and legs. Looks like Vickie was right again. This lotion is way nicer than the stuff I have.
"Wow, it absorbed so fast!" I admire my underarms and my inner thighs, which are already less chafed than normal. "Where'd you get this?"
"It was at the little world market downtown. I think it's from Ireland?"
I look around the bottle for a manufacturer name, but didn't see any. "Yeah I don't know." It's getting late anyway, so I'll just go find it myself tomorrow.
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive you home?" Vickie lives further from the gym than me, and usually offers me a ride. She's more insistent today, since it's already twilight, but I still refuse.
"I don't want you to waste gas. I'll be fine Vickie, I promise."
"Alright, alright. I'll see you Saturday for coffee?"
"For sure. Night!"
"Night, Casey!"
I start the little 2-block jaunt back to my apartment. I'm a little on edge today, with it being late, but this area of town has virtually zero crime. I reassure myself there's nothing to worry about, and keep walking.
After one block, my head starts to ache. I stop for a moment, to take some painkillers out of my bag. It takes me a minute to find them, all the while cursing myself for staying up too late last night. I need to get home and go to bed. As I finally pull the bottle out, I squeeze on either side and started to twist it open. Or, I try to. For some reason it feels like the bottle was shut super tight, and no matter where I put my fingers or how hard I pinch, it won't budge. I throw the bottle back into my bag out of frustration, and pick up the pace to get home. I figure I'll feel better in the morning.
I barely make it 40 feet before I realize how sore my shoulder is. I takeoff my bag to switch shoulders, but it feels like a ton of bricks! My arms falter, and my bag drops to the ground. What is going on? Did the new routine really make me that sore? I take another shot at lifting my bag, and barely get it an inch off the ground before my body just gives out. I collapse on top of my bag, feeling like I had just ran a marathon. I try to focus on breathing, my mind scrambling to figure out what's happening to me, as I start to lose consciousness. With each exhale, my eyes flutter closed a little further, until finally I black out.
I wake up in a heavy stupor, like I'd been asleep for a year. I slowly manage to get my eyes open, still feeling weak, but no longer in pain. I'm in the backseat of a car, with dark tinted windows. I've been put on my stomach, with my knees bent, and my ankles tied to my wrists behind my back in a hogtie. There's a stocking tied around my head and looped into my mouth, gagging me.
I can hear the driver talking to someone, "I'm on my way, sir, maybe 10 minutes out. Yes, it's the one from Crystal Heights. Curly black hair, early 20s, hazel eyes, E cups, and olive skin. No, easy pick up, no witnesses. Reaction worked as intended." Whoever this man is, he knows where I live, and has been tracking me. Or at least his boss has.
A short time later, I feel the car stop. I haven't recognized any scenery on the way here, and can only see that we're outside tan building. My captor gets out, then opens the door in front of me. He says nothing, just takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and blindfolds me with it. He grabs me by the rope tying my limbs together, and slings me over his shoulder. I feel like I'm in one of those aerial yoga poses, but instead of looking like a graceful acrobat, I just look like a handbag.
After hauling me inside, the man sets me down, and begins untying my hands and feet. Once the knots are off, I try to remove my blindfold, only for him to grab me by the wrists. He picks me up again, and I start kicking as hard as I can. Judging by the dull thud of my kicks and the amount of energy I'm using to move my legs, I think whatever drug that weakened me before is still in effect. He sets me down again on my stomach, this time on a raised surface with padding. My head hangs off the edge of the table, and I can feel open air on my stomach.