"Thanks." Jared said, as he took the knife and began cutting away the ropes. The woman didn't answer; she was too busy searching the room.
Jared let the last of the rope fall away, and unsteadily stood up. The small room contained barrels, coils of thick rope, a plastic trough of water, and several other things, such as boxes and stacks of wood.
The woman was attempting to open the small, black-painted door now; but it appeared to be locked. Jared leant against one grey wall, watching her.
"It's no use even trying - it's locked." she informed him; running a hand through her shoulder-lenght auburn hair.
"So I see. I'm Jared, by the way. Who're you?" he asked in reply; walking over to one of the barrels and kicking it. The wood felt thin and hollow. He wondered what he was doing in what looked like a storage room, and how he had gotten there.
"My name is Dianna. I don't know this place or how I got here. The last thing I remember is walking through town with my sister, and our dog."
The woman told him; bending over the blue plastic water-filled trough to wash the dried blood from her face and hands. What looked like knife-slashes were etched across her pale cheeks. Her dark purple long-sleeved tee-shirt was stained to a wet black in places by more blood. One of the sleeves had been hacked off, revealing the tourniquet that matched Jared's.
That observation brought Jared's attention back to his injuries. Finding the knotted part of his own tourniquet, he began to carefully peel it away...