I wake in an unfamiliar bed, eyes wide but it’s too dark to see. Acrid remnants of last night’s party linger in my mouth. Deep inside my fuzzy head misty pictures flicker: red wine, dancing, being ill, some guy holding my hair back. I lay still. Gradually my eyes adjust to the dark. The room is tidy, apart from my clothes strewn about the floor. A whiff of coffee floats in, I’m reassured. If he’s making coffee he must be nice. My level of consciousness rises further as fog of last night lifts.
Then I feel it, rope around my ankles.
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