Laura
Laura was cold and stiff. And sore. She felt really sore. What had she been doing last night?
She lay there trying to summon the memories, but the pain in her head was too bad. She tried to recall what she’d drunk. Bridget must have ordered shots.
Actually, had she been drinking?
Laura opened her eyes, but it was like she hadn’t. It was so dark. It must still be the middle of the night. Or she was dreaming.
But would she be in this much agony if she was still asleep?
She tried to sit up and it was then it came to her.
He’d caught her, completely unawares. At just the last second she’d seen his reflection in the window, his arm raised, hands clasped around some sort of long object. Before she could react, he’d hit her.
A cry spilled from her mouth and she put up her hand to stifle it, causing another groan. Even the slightest movement hurt.
She sat there in the dark trying to make her eyes adjust. Where the hell was she? She couldn’t see anything, not even a sliver of light. Tentatively, she reached her hand up to the back of her head and felt wet, matted hair. The wound was too tender to touch and Laura knew it needed medical attention.
Her eyes filled with tears; her breathing quickened into short, panicky gasps. She placed a hand on her chest. She had to calm down, hold it together. Her phone. Where was her phone? She’d had it in the car – had she taken it with her? Yes, it had been in her hand. She remembered it there, its warm, comfortable familiarity. But where was it now? She felt around the floor, hoping it would be there, knowing it wouldn’t.
Laura turned onto her knees, ignoring the pleas of her limbs to stay still. She started to crawl around, trying to get her bearings. It was a large space, with boxes and tins dotting the floor. Then she felt a stair and another stair. Her heart sank and the tears began to flow down her cheeks.
She was in a cellar. His cellar.
Terror welled in her. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, like she wasn’t in her own body.
And what was that?
Was that somebody else breathing, or the sound of her own wheezing?
Laura felt the blood in her veins turn to ice. Then she opened her mouth and a tiny voice, a voice she didn’t even know she had, came out.
‘Is somebody there? Fiona – is that you?’