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273 Not a Dreami
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273 Not a Dream
(Cass)
I wake up feeling like I’m sinking, caught in a daze that can’t quite shake off. The drum beating from somewhere deep inside my skull won’t let up.
It’s like I’m stuck halfway between sleep and waking.
No matter how hard I try to drag myself to the surface, something pulls me back under.
My eyes flutter open, but my vision’s blurred, and everything is dim, like the curtains in the hotel room are still closed. Cancun… right? I’m still in Cancun
I blink slowly, trying to focus. The bed beneath me feels wrong though, harder than I remember. No pillow.
I squint, trying to make sense of it all, but it’s like my brain is wrapped in cotton wool.
I lift my hand to my forehead–at least, I try to–but nothing happens. My arm doesn’t move.
What the hell? Am I paralyzed?
I groan, my throat dry and scratchy, as I try again to move. My body feels foreign, disconnected, and everything inside me feels… off. Like I’ve been drugged or something.
But I haven’t done drugs. I don’t use now. I’m clean.
A wave of nausea rolls through me, and I close my eyes against it, telling myself it’s nothing. Just the aftermath of a bad night. Maybe too much tequila
Maybe… Gabriel? Is he asleep? Was he in the room last night?
I remember something–him, standing by the door. Or was that a dream?
“Gabriel?” My voice comes out weak, hoarse. There’s no answer.
Okay. Just wake up. That’s all I need to do. Wake up, and everything will be fine.
I take a deep breath, trying to clear the haze in my mind, but something feels wrong. The air smells… bad, Sour and musty. I wrinkle my nose, but the smell fills me, making me gag.
Where am I?
I blink again, harder this time, trying to make out the shapes around me. It’s too dark, too shadowy. Not the hotel room. Definitely not the hotel room.
Panic begins to creep in, slow at first, like a trickle of cold water down my spine. I try to ait up, but something tugs at my wrists, stopping me. My heart skips a beat, and I try again, harder this time, but my hands won’t move.
No, no, no.
I look down, blinking in the darkness, trying to see what’s happening. My wrists are bound. Ropes, tight around them. I tug again, and they bite into my skin. My ankles too–they’re tied.
This isn’t right. This can’t be right.
273 Not a Dream
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My breath comes in shallow, panicked bursts. I pull harder, but the ropes won’t budge, and the more I struggle, the tighter they seem to get. My head pounds, a sharp, throbbing pain that makes it hard to think
“Gabriel?” My voice cracks, louder this time, but there’s still no answer.
The fog in my brain starts to lift, and with it comes a horrifying realization. This isn’t a dream. This isn’t the hotel room. I’m not stuck in a dream because this is real.
I’m trapped.
I strain to listen, my ears searching for any sound, any clue that might tell me where I am. But there’s nothing. Just silence, thick and suffocating.
A drip lands on my forehead, cold and startling. I flinch, but I can’t wipe it away. Another drip, and then another, steady like a leaking pipe. My breath catches in my throat. Water?
Panic grips me, full force, wrapping around my chest like a vise. I scream again, louder this time. “Gabriel! Please!”
Still nothing.
Toars prick at my eyes, and I fight them back, refusing to give in to the fear bubbling inside me. But it’s hard. So damn hard.
I’m tied up. I don’t know where I am. And I’m alone.
“Help!” I scream, my voice hoarse, but all I hear is the echo bouncing off the walls.
Who did this? Who brought me here? My mind races, trying to piece together what little I can remember.
I was in the club with Gabriel, right? Then my purse got stolen. I remember feeling panicked. We left the club and went back to the hotel.
But then… it’s blank. Just fragments of that weird dream where someone was in my room.
–
A chill runs through me. Whoever took me they drugged me, didn’t they? They came into my hotel room, and I was too out of it to stop them,
Oh God,
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