It was like one of those moments from a film where everything moves slow motion in anticipation of the final outcome. I saw her right knee touch the floorboards as she began to tie up a loose lace on her smaller boot. She hadn't yet spotted me as I lay there in catatonic fear. "For god sakes, don't move" I thought to myself. The game was up, she yelled to her counterpart "Reg, REG! She's hiding under the damn bed." I felt a firm grip around my right ankle as I was dragged along the ground towards her and pulled up to standing. Reg raced towards me with handcuffs at the ready whilst Rosie prevented me from bolting. She was right, he reeked of pot, no doubt under the influence right now. If I was going to be apprehended, did it have to be by such a degenerate? The black rings under his fatigued eyes showed me he rarely slept, probably spending much of his time in front of the TV smoking himself half to death. I hated smokers. My father had died 2 years previously from a rather nasty tumour and had always had a hacking cough as far back as I could remember. I loved my father, I hated what he did to himself, and this guy stood just a foot away brought all these old feelings flooding back.
"Let's take her in Rosie" Reg said as he pushed me through the doorway ahead of him exiting the room. I was not going to go quietly that was for sure. My hands being behind my back in cuffs hindered my unwillingness to cooperate which angered me even more. I wanted to use my only free limbs to kick or trip up Reg in front of me as he lead the way, but before I had a real opportunity I felt a sharp pricking pain in my neck, not something caused by a random muscle spasm. I could only summise that Rosie had stuck a hypodermic in me. I felt weak, as whatever I had been injected with coursed its way through my veins and into every cell of my being. My knees buckled, I hit the ground.
Déjà vu. I wake up, and i'm blind. I'm bathed in an intense white light from above, nothing empyrean about this though. I'm cold and still tied up, this time to an old scratched wooden chair. Maybe it's not the first time this chair has had to serve this purpose. It doesn't bear thinking about. Past the wide beam of clinical light overhead I see nothing. I'm at the centre of my world as it spreads three feet around me. Faint voices sound in the background but I cannot make anything out as the grogginess worms it way out of my pores. It sounds vaguely like an argument or disagreement of some kind. My thoughts are cut short as my world is penetrated by another figure. The light is so bright that I can hardly look upwards to see the face, although I am lead to believe by some sixth sense that it is a male. My eyes adjust slightly, he is wearing a shin-length black leather coat, the kind those strange gothic rocker youths might wear along with their long hair and spiked collars. This figure is not like that, he is so much more. Menacing.
I'm bound, and powerless.