When I woke up, it felt like I'd been hit by a freight train.
My body was heavy, my limbs slow to respond, and my mind foggy from whatever they'd used to knock me out.
That was extreme to give for a 17 year old girl.
As my vision cleared, I realized I was in some dark, abandoned warehouse—off the radar, far away from where anyone could easily find me.
Despite the situation, I was calm. Too calm, really.
You'd think a seventeen-year-old would be panicking right now, but I was used to this. This wasn't my first time being kidnapped, and at this rate, it wouldn't be my last.
The scars running across my body, remnants of the past, were proof enough of that.
I'd lost count of how many times I'd taken bullets, knife wounds, and brutal beatings for Sophie.
I couldn't help but wonder—how many bullets would I have to take for her this time? How many knife wounds would I endure before someone would rescue me?
Yet here I was, alive.
