The young woman woke up gasping for breath. She was sitting up straight at the impact of reality entering her once again, not being able to remember who she was for a second, her mind refusing to sync with the speed of her thoughts. She could taste iron in the air, her tongue all fuzzy.

Her hands were holding something soft, which made her look on either side of her.

She was lying on a bed.

Zara glanced up and looked around her, her eyesight coming back to normal through the morning tears. She was inside a huge room, one that was bigger than hotel rooms that she had stayed in. This was the grandest room she had ever seen.

It was unbelievably and hurtfully bright white.

The bed was a contrast between white and black, having both colour pillows and sheets. But the double doors at the end of the room were white with gold handles. There was a chandelier-like lamp on the ceiling at the centre of the room. Several windows were on her right side that were half the height of the walls themselves, all glass and half-closed with tan-coloured sheets, letting sunlight through just barely.

It was morning.

Zara panicked.

Where was she?

She pulled the blanket off of her and looked at her clothes. She let out a breath of relief when they were the same clothes that she had worn the previous night. But her precious jacket was resting on the chair before the working table on her left. She had the urge to go and pick it up, but first, she checked herself for any injuries and harm.

Her hands were healing slowly as she was in the second day of pain, which was one that she hated to admit that she enjoyed. It was the pain at the beginning of the healing process which would be at its highest. But this was a pain that would remind her of her progress. It was certainly a guilty pleasure of having been fierce.

She pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt to the shoulders and checked her arms for bruises and found nothing. Another sigh of relief. She would have hated not having her herbal medicine for bruises that she was always prone to.

The room was awfully quiet, except for the sound of birds outside which was indifferent to the sound of traffic that she was used to waking up to. And because of this silence, Zara heard the echoes of the sound of someone walking down the hallway.

Pushed herself off of the left side of the bed, her feet touched a white woollen carpet. She hated to admit that it did feel good against her sore feet but she had to get out of here. That was the only deal running inside her mind. She grabbed her jacket and wore it around her quickly as her eyes scanned the room. She searched for her phone and then slammed her forehead. She had left it on the counter at the bar.

There was a pair of candlesticks on the fireplace near the table facing the windows. She tip-toed towards it, worried that even her footsteps would echo against the white marble floor. Picking up the candlestick, she got her pepper spray on the other hand but after shaking it, she realised that it was empty. She had used the last of it the previous night.

Cursing under her breath, she tip-toed to the dressing table on the other end of the room and searched the drawers for something sharp to protect herself. She found a pin, but how would it help her then? A pen may have been mightier than the sword, but Zara wouldn't have minded the latter at this point.

Her eyes fell on a purple-coloured glass perfume bottle. She opened it and smelled it, lavender taking her on a trip around the world. This should work, she reassured herself and walked to the wall that stood beside the door. She armed herself, ready to attack whoever was going to walk through the doors. But when they opened up and she got out to attack, she saw no one but an old man who was dressed in a black suit and a white shirt.

"Good morning, miss," he said, completely ignoring the fact that she was about to attack him. "I see that you have already made yourself aware of your surroundings." He bowed his head as he walked inside the room and started to make the bed.

"Who are you? Where the hell am I?"

"I'm the butler, Miss," he said, bowing to her once and then continuing to arrange the things in the room. "My name is Marvin." 

"Where. The. Hell. Am. I?" She walked towards him, still armed.

He sighed as he looked at her. "You can keep the candlestick down, miss." He walked towards her and took the candlestick from her. When he saw her other hand clutching the perfume, his eyes widened. "Not this!" He pulled it away from her hastily. "This is from Paris! How could you even think of breaking it?"

Zara frowned at him. "Sorry." She shrugged. "Where am I exactly?"

"Ah," he said, placing the things back in their place. "Master wanted me to inform you that he is waiting for you at the dining hall downstairs."

Downstairs. There was more than one floor in the house that she was in, although "kidnapped to" would have been a better phrasal. "Great." She pulled the sleeves of her jacket till her elbow, ready for another fight. "Take me to him."

Walking down the grand staircases of the house, Zara was curious to see the rest of the house. She walked down one staircase and came to the ground floor of the house. She noticed that the entire house was marble-floored, which made her thank herself for wearing combat boots and not her usual sneakers, although she did seem to miss them.

Her heart was beating out of her chest the entire time that Marvin was leading her to the one he called "Master". She knew who it was. He knew who it was. It was only going to take everything in her to not murder him with a butter knife.

The last staircase that she walked down was the grandest staircase that she had ever seen. It seemed to form a curve that wouldn't cause a trip, which surprised her. She had to hand it to the architect for creating a beautiful house like this one.

Marvin led her down the hall and once they reached another double set of doors, this one made of dark oak wood that reminded her of her college, Marvin opened both of them and walked inside, giving way for Zara to walk in herself.

She found her feet stuck to the floor.

What was she going to walk into?

Taking a deep breath, she stormed into the room.