Blood Visions

PrologueSomewhere in Oregon The floor is hard and cold, very cold. That’s the first thing Ann Beth notices when she wakes up, which confuses her at first—why is she on the floor? Why is she cold? It’s dark. She should be asleep. She reaches out, wondering if she has fallen out of bed. And her arm rattles, or more accurately, the chain connected to her arm rattles. “What the hell?” Ann Beth lifts her arm to her face. It’s so dark that she can’t see the metal cuff around her wrist until it is right in front of her face. It’s old and rusty, not the sort of thing her sorority sisters would use in a prank. No, if they were going to handcuff her, it would be with pink, fluffy handcuffs, and probably to a stripper or a naked frat boy. As she feels along the chain, she realizes it’s connected to a wall. Panic starts to creep in, because this doesn’t feel like a prank. The room she’s in is almost pitch-black, but Ann Beth strains her eyes trying to look around anyway. It’s most certainly not her bedroom. She can’t see a bed, or furniture, or her window that faces campus. In fact, there are no windows. It smells damp like a basement. Ann Beth looks at the thick cuff on her wrist, to see if she can get it off, but it’s tight and locked. It pinches a little, making her skin sore. She doesn’t think she has been here long, at least she hopes she hasn’t. She can remember getting out of class, but then it starts to get fuzzy. Her last class had been Women’s Studies, and they’d been given a reading assignment. Ann Beth always does her assignments right away; she loves the course and the teacher, Prof. Grace. She thinks she remembers going home, back to the sorority to do that reading. Feeling down her body Ann Beth can just tell that she is wearing her own nightgown. Her friends all say it makes her look frumpy, but it’s light and cool in the summer heat without showing everything off. So she must have changed in her bedroom. Ann Beth uses her free hand to feel her shoulder-length hair. It’s in a braid, so she did get ready for bed, but did she go to sleep? She can’t remember. Some sororities and frat houses take pranks too far, but there haven’t been any cases of drugging at Reed University. There have been a few cases of alcohol poisoning at the Portland school, but it’s a good school, and Ann Beth’s friends are good people. They like to party and have fun, but they wouldn’t do something like this, not to a friend, not to anybody. Not only are her friends not this cruel, none of them would want to risk getting a police record. She doesn’t try to stand up. Her legs feel weak, and there’s no point when she’s shackled to the wall. “Hello?” Ann Beth calls out; she hopes this is a prank. If it is, it really isn’t a funny one. To get her out of her bedroom, she thinks she must have been drugged, because surely she would have woken up otherwise. No one answers her, so Ann Beth takes a breath, trying to gain some courage. “Is anybody there? Hello, this isn’t funny,” Ann Beth yells. Her voice echoes a little off the walls. If there is anybody around who can hear her, they don’t answer. Ann Beth listens carefully, but she can’t hear anything. Maybe they’re just being really quiet, maybe they’re behind a door or something. “Please, let me go. I won’t call the police, I promise, just let me go,” Ann Beth pleads, unable to keep the tremble out of her voice. “Please!” Ann Beth shouts. She keeps yelling, tugging at the chain, but it doesn’t budge. It just hurts her wrist and makes her cry out in frustration. Even though it seems useless, and her legs are still shaky, Ann Beth stands up, and pulls against the chain some more. She’s not sure when she starts to cry, but she suddenly notices the change in her voice, as it becomes thick with tears. There is a scratchy noise, like paper sliding across a classroom floor Ann Beth is sure she didn’t make and she goes quiet. She’s silent apart from her heavy breathing. She’s out of breath from trying to escape and crying, but she tries to even it out, to make less sound Ann Beth stands very still; she’s never listened more carefully in her life. And then she hears something. It sounds like someone moving closer “Hello?” Ann Beth says, hoping someone is here now, but terrified at the same time. This could be someone here to rescue her, or it could be the person who brought her here and they might want to hurt her. Why else would they have taken her? Her family isn’t wealthy, so it’s unlikely that this is about money. Yet again, no one responds, but there is a sound like faint footsteps. There’s a dim light coming from somewhere in the room. It doesn’t show her much, but it’s something. “Please, please don’t hurt me. Just let me go and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. Just give me the key; I won’t open the cuff until you leave. Or drug me again. I’ll have never seen your face, I won’t be able to get you in any trouble,” Ann Beth bargains. She’s seen enough TV shows to know that if an attacker-s***h-kidnapper ever lets you see their face that means they’re planning to kill you. The sound of footsteps gets closer, louder. Ann Beth tries to see through the darkness, willing her eyes to work just that little bit better. The shadows seem to shift in front of her, coming closer, the darkness itself moving. Her kidnapper is there as if the darkness has taken on a solid form, in front of her in a black cloak. The material is as dark as the room and has a hood that covers the person’s face, hiding it in shadow. “I… please. I’ve never hurt anyone, just let me go.” Ann Beth knows she is running out of time, her heart has started racing, beating wildly in her chest. The hood is lowered. Ann Beth screams.