Gwen woke with a groan. She tried stretching and realized that her hands and feet were bound. Her first instinct was to scream but her mouth refused to open. Instead, her foggy mind registered a dull ache as something sticky stretched her sensitive skin. Her tongue felt swollen and she couldn't swallow. If that wasn't bad enough, she could have sworn she had bed sores from lying in the same position for god only knows how long. The drawn curtains shielded the sky from her view, and she couldn't guess whether it was light or dark outside.

As her mind struggled to clear itself, she began recalling bits and pieces of her outing with Tilly.

They had spent a great day together; walked till they couldn't walk anymore and talked till their voices croaked. Tilly did her 'touristy shopping; ooh-ing and aah-ing over delicate anklets and earrings, and beautifully handcrafted wooden showpieces ranging from animals to monuments. She had also drooled over the angora shawls and various other 'Indian attractions'. 

How typical.

The two had gossiped non-stop, trying to catch up. The last time she had seen Tilly was when they were graduating from college. They had the same major, Fine Art and Creative Writing at Lancaster. And of course, they shared some of the same friends circle and activities such as Art (duh!), Boating (which Londoner didn't love boating?) Culture, Dance and Debate. For kicks, they had enrolled into the Country Sports Club (which girl didn't love a boy on a horse?) And then there was the Baking Club. Now that was a hoot of an experience, especially when Tilly got the baking soda mixed up with the icing sugar and then couldn't figure out why her cake didn't taste quite as it was supposed to.

They had eaten at Aunt Jasmine's and walked a lot more. When exhausted, Tilly invited Gwen to her room. At first Gwen had hesitated, but Tilly insisted. Not wanting to seem impolite and in part, not ready to face Aunt Jasmine and possibly JT, Gwen caved. Plus her phone battery had died on her and she jumped at the opportunity to recharge it.

A late afternoon tea had been ordered and the two women had relaxed. Tilly went on about her son and showed Gwen pictures. That was the last thing that she remembered clearly. 

Then it got all blurry from there. 

She recalled, hazily, feeling fatigued and remembered closing her eyes for two minutes while Tilly had gone to 'freshen up'.

And god knows how many hours later, she was waking up in an alien bed and in an alien room. Bound and duct taped. 

That cow! She swore under her breath. If she came out of this in one piece, she would rain burning meteors on her 'acquaintance'.

Once the initial anger passed, the panic set in. Questions surfaced; what was she going to do? What was going to happen next? Would Aunt Jasmine or JT think she had run off? Or would they guess something bad had happened? Would they even look for her? 

Gwen found that she had no answers. Only questions. Redundant, cliched and unproductive questions. She felt her line of thought was doing nothing more than feeding her panic. 

And so she stopped, by reminding herself of her promise.

No more depending on others, especially James.

Externally, she struggled against her bindings, testing to see if they would give. Internally, she struggled to make sense of the situation. The Tilly-Tom questioning soared to the front of her mind. She knew immediately that the two were involved. There just couldn't be any other explanation. While she felt proud of reaching that conclusion without help, she was still left pondering over the 'why'. She ridiculed herself for making such a poor Sherlock.

It was then that a thought dawned on her; the 'why' that was important at this point. It was the 'what'. What in the world was she going to do?

She found herself looking around the room for options.

No telephone. Tilly must have unhooked the handset.

Damn! There went her escape.

With no other choice but to get out of bed, Gwen rolled till she was precariously balanced on the edge. Then she closed my eyes and rolled once more, feeling weightless as her body raced to embrace the floor.

A muted 'thud' followed shortly after.

Thank God for low beds and a huge 'Amen' for hotel carpeting!

As she struggled to sit up, something sharp bit into her back. Probing with her fingers, she found the sharp edge belonged to a loose wooden molding. An idea formed in Gwen's head; and eager, she began fingering the molding to see if it would give.

Please... please... please... she prayed.

After what seemed like an eternity of hoping, praying, and probing, the piece came off with a soft 'crack', allowing Gwen's hope to soar.

Thank you... thank you... thank you... rushed her mind even as a sharp pain washed over her finger. A nail! That's what she was hoping for; never mind the bleeding finger. She would worry about a tetanus shot, if she ever got out of this situation!

Gwen began to furiously rub the duct tape against the nail, hoping that her binding was thinly layered. She made a mental note to stop ridiculing detective shows her friends used to watch on the telly, and paying more attention to such details. After all, this one idea could save her from a very unwelcome situation.

The effort and perhaps the thought of someone walking in on her, left Gwen breathless. It didn't help that the silence in the room multiplied the scratchy sound of the nail against the tape. She was certain anyone within a hundred feet could hear it!

Okay, perhaps that was a little far-fetched, her mind chimed in.

Gwen ignored her mind and continued her efforts. A thin film of sweat coated her forehead and she longed for the freedom to wipe it off with the back of her hand. Alas, she couldn't. From the tightness around her wrists, she knew she still had a while to go before the tape shredded.

A loud sound from outside stilled Gwen's efforts; but only momentarily. The thought of being caught urged her to double her efforts; perhaps even carelessly. A curse slips through her lips when her hands slip. Pain spreads up through her arm and warm blood begins trickling down to her wrist. It coats the tape, making it slippery. Fatigue further threatens to slow down her progress.

Damn! Definitely need that tetanus shot!

Gwen snorts and snickers at that thought. She wonders why her mind seems to be making light of the situation. Shouldn't she be more worried? Fear the worst? Fear for her life even? Shouldn't she be more upset?

She didn't understand how or why her mind worked the way it did at that moment.

At least there's something to do. Imagine dying of boredom while waiting for the nail to be your savior! her mind screamed back.

Perhaps this was the answer to her questions; she was going nuts. Yes, that had to be it. The stress and anxiety was doing funny things to her; instead of panicking she was going to thrust humor into the situation.

Numbness washed over her legs and Gwen cursed and shifted her weight to her right hip. What else was going to impede her efforts?

Really... really need to go pee.

Now that was a thought she best not focus on. She considered chiding her brain, but settled for a roll of her eyes. No matter how ridiculous, she had to hand it to her brain; the humor was keeping her from a breakdown. She knew hysteria was simmering just under the surface and wondered how long it would be till she succumbed to it.

A loud slam stops her progress.

Gwen stiffens and holds her breath.

Shit ... shit ... shit..