The Girl Who Cried Captive

Hunger and thirst wake me, my stomach cramping with emptiness. This isn’t the first time I’ve woken since being knocked unconscious, but it’s the first time my mind feels clear enough to take stock of my surroundings.
I’m equal parts relieved and terrified to discover I’m still alone. The absolute darkness hasn’t abated even as time wears on, but my eyes have semi-adjusted to my new environment. As far as I can tell, the room has no windows and a single door that only opens from the outside. The air reeks of mildew and decay like I might be underground. My stomach twists with hunger. I’m long past salivating, thanks to a level of dehydration that has far surpassed any cottonmouth I’ve ever experienced. My breaths are shallow, and even the slightest movement sends waves of dizziness over me.
I do my best to lie still, curled on the cement floor, waiting.
I don’t even know what I’m waiting for.
Whoever knocked me out also swiped my phone before tossing me into this shithole, so I’m not even sure how much time passes as I drift in and out of consciousness. Maybe days, considering how weak I am from thirst and hunger. But the thing that scares me the most is that I haven’t heard so much as a scrape of shoes from beyond the walls. Which means not a single soul knows where I am or who did this to me. Including myself.
I’m so screwed.
My panic is muted, thanks to a bone-deep exhaustion. Instead of screaming—which I did my fair share of when I first woke up and found myself here, only to cause myself to vomit and black out again—I do my best to cry without actually shedding tears. You can’t afford to waste liquids, I tell myself pathetically.
With careful fingers, I move my vomit encrusted hair aside and feel for the bump on my head. The last thing I remember before waking up in this hell is getting hit over the head. The bump is much smaller than it was before, but my head still throbs in time with my pulse. I’d take the reduced swelling as a win except I know that means I’ve been in this dark room way too long without food and water.
If someone doesn’t show up soon, I’m not sure I’ll make it. Maybe that’s their plan.
To distract myself from the terror of that thought, my mind drifts to Talia and Anna. I wonder what they’re doing now. The last time I disappeared for a night, they went DEFCON five and called the entire campus to help look for me. This time, knowing Talia, they’ve probably already called in the Feds. Or the mob. Hard to tell with her.
Anna’s probably a bleary-eyed mess. Or baking the shit out of every grain of flour she can find. At least that bodes well for my hunger if I ever manage to get out of here.
And Kash. I can’t imagine what his rage looks like, but he’s probably already destroyed at least a couple of grocery stores. For all I know, Lynch is either calming him down or throwing together a search party complete with piñatas and themed t-shirts. That dude loves a Pinterest-worthy soiree.