I opened my eyes, blinking blearily. Groaning, I lifted a hand to my head. It was like a thousand minions were having a party in my skull. My body felt heavy, like I'd been asleep for days. Maybe I had.
I stirred. Awareness of my surroundings seeped in, and I heard the low hum of air conditioning, and faint music. I made a face and strained my ears. Was that... the Black-Eyed Peas?
Where the heckity heck was I?
I scanned around the room, noting the girly furniture and hot pink decor. I winced at a poster of Dwayne Johnson on the wall, flexing in a—I paled, my eyes glassing over—thong of all things.
Definitely not dead. Gross.
I was starting to think being alive might not be a good thing. Some sights you just couldn't unsee.
I made a move to sit up right as the bedroom door flew open and smacked against the wall. A girl rushed in, a whirlwind of energy and tangled blonde hair.
"Oh excellent! You're awake!" she gushed, clapping her hands together. "I was worried Dylon gave you too big a dose, you've been asleep for hours!"
I squinted, my hands gripping the edge of the bed as I hung my head and glared at her from one eye. She was way too perky to be a rapist. Or a serial killer. I tried to lick my lips, but my tongue felt like sandpaper. If she wasn't a criminal—and that was still debatable—why the frack was I in what appeared to be her bedroom, with no memory of how I got there?
Judging by her words and the hammering in my head, she––or he––drugged and kidnapped me right out of my house. I glanced around the electric pink room, then back at her, a dubious expression spreading across my face.
Frankly, she didn't appear strong enough to kidnap a toddler.
A memory flickered and I remembered the feel of a hand over my mouth. A hand that felt strong and male, if my recall was accurate. Which meant she wasn't alone when she dragged me off in the middle of the night.
Lovely, maybe she's the sick girlfriend of a rapist or serial killer. I shivered, a frisson of fear snaking down my spine.
She must have seen the look on my face because her blue eyes widened and she scurried closer, stopping just short of the bed. "Oh don't worry, you're okay! You're safe here with us, I promise. I'm sorry we had to erm––kidnap you, or whatever––but we didn't have another choice. We had orders."
I cleared my throat, trying to speak around the sandpaper. I croaked out, "Who's we?"
The blonde dervish whirled and darted to a small wardrobe, pouring a glass of water from a hot pink pitcher. I glanced around the room, noting the bright pink chiffon curtains and the black bedroom furniture. Black and pink seemed to be the theme. Even the carpeting was a deep rose color, with two large, comfy looking black bean bags thrown in one corner next to a funky lamp. The girl held out a glass decorated with pink and black flowers and vines.
Of course.
"Here. Drink this. It's only water with some electrolytes, but it should help clear up the sluggish feeling."
I accepted the glass with a murmur of thanks, wondering why I wasn't feeling more afraid. I'd been drugged, kidnapped, and dragged out of my home in the middle of the night. I woke up in a strange bed.
Now I was about to drink water—I hoped—given to me by a girl that looked less like a girl and more like a doll. A doll in perfectly distressed jeans and a rose colored cami. A doll who, by my mental calculations, couldn't have been much older than I, yet was clearly a felon.
All like it was the most natural thing in the world.
She plopped down on the bed next to me, and somehow, that felt natural too.
I sighed.
Could life get any weirder? Maybe I was still passed out. I gave the girl a side glance, telling myself that had to be it. I pinched my arm to see if I was still sleeping, fully expecting to feel nothing.
Ow!
I glared down at the red mark, a glum look crossing my face.
Clearly awake, Feyona. Yay, you.
At a loss, I took a sip of the water I was given, and did the only thing I could do.
I waited.