She had drifted in and out of consciousness- a vehicle's engine, being carried in someone's arms, a group of voices- but it was always dark, and too much for her to process.

It was different this time; her fingers twitched with more life, and she could just about make out a sea of dark legs. The scene was blurred, and a splitting pain at the back of her head almost shut her out again, but she fought against it.

She tried to raise her hand, the voices around her in a loud dispute, but her wrists were bound with rope and further looped through an exposed pipe on the wall that she was bundled against. A few more shallow breaths allowed her to recover from her limp, attempted movement, and she opened her eyes again, bravely wider to assess the darkness.

From the angle her head was against the wall, she counted five people- men judging by the low pitches of their voices. She listened for basic information amongst the burning heat of curses thrown back and forth, mainly, that the guys were American, but from where specifically, she couldn't figure out. She was also fairly certain someone was called Joe and someone was called Tyler, since they weren't exactly subtle addressing one another.

A loud door slam brought her back from a pain-induced doze, and judging by a further pound of shoes, a couple more followed the swift exit.

It was a lot quieter now, something her head appreciated, and it was easier to focus on what was being said.

Only two guys remained, and one had a very clear name: Brad.

She didn't know what either of them looked like because it involved more movement on her part, but she did try to memorise how they spoke, including the mutterings of colourful language.

The air shifted, and she knew one of them was right in front of her, crouched in her shadow. Her mind fought with the possibilities of life and death, but the man simply found and held her wrist.

He was feeling her pulse. Nothing more. Nothing less. An index and middle fingertip pressed gently into her cold skin. Cold from the temperature, and cold from the uncertainty.

Her senses itched with the smell of leather and a hint of smoke, and then the contact was gone.

He was gone.

They were both gone.

Alone, she began to fidget, only to realise how depleted her energy was when dealing with a cracking headache that swelled up all of her sinuses. A tug here and a kick there had nothing close to success, and keeping her head up was tough enough, but she squinted her eyes enough to be able to scan her surroundings.

The floor was composed of exposed floorboards which had splintered in more places than she could count and were clearly rotting away. The walls were probably a musty cream and even in the dark, she could see the filth and damp patches crawl towards the ceiling.

Tears threatened, and she slumped in the same bunched-up position she awoke from.

She didn't know where she was. She didn't know how she got here, or who these guys were. She didn't know anything.

There was a final effort to jog her memory, looking down at what she was wearing. Ankle cropped jeans covered in dust and dirt, a plain black fitted t-shirt and a black bomber jacket which was torn on one of the sleeves from the elbow to the wrist. She had white socks on her feet, which were not so white anymore, and no shoes.

It didn't help. She had no clear sequence of the night.

She was hurt, scared, and thirsty, thinking this was how she was going to die. All alone, in the dark, to the hands of five American strangers with no memory, maybe not even of herself.

She was waiting for the door to swing open and reveal her fate, for two men to step in with a gun pointed towards her.

That exact scenario happened, suggesting it had been in real time, just without a weapon.

One of them moved the lamp from the corner so it was less than a metre in front of her, tapping it a few times to trick the crackling bulb, and with the addition of some light, she could make out facial features which meant he could probably see her too.

That man had dark, practically black, thick shoulder length hair that was parted naturally to one side and fell in voluminous waves around his face. His eyes were just as dark and his face was accented with a defined nose and a sharp jawline that made his chin jut out.

The remaining man- a presumed partner- had much fairer hair and was styled with a wispy fringe that fell messily to his brow, though it was still a similar length. It was hard to be certain of his eye colour, but what he did have was matured stubble around his mouth which faded in thickness across his jaw and it somehow made him less intimidating.

Differences aside, they were both dressed in black head to toe.

"You're awake," the man with the dark, brooding expression stated. He stood slightly further forward, and the tone of his voice confirmed he had been the one to name Brad.

She swallowed nervously, unpleasant from the roughness of her throat. "W-who are you?"

There was no reply from either man.

"Where am I?" she asked again, overcoming the fragile quiver. "Why am I here? Who are-"

"Enough with the questions," the same man said, cutting her off sharply. He folded his arms across his strong chest, the leather material of his jacket creasing at the elbows.

The other guy, who she could assume was Brad, stepped forward. She immediately tensed up, but was frozen in fear to back away.

She watched him reach into a deep pocket and she could have sworn she stopped breathing for a moment. Maybe a few. She expected a gun to be pressed in the palm of his hand, lifted and aimed at her head to silence her, but she was wrong.

He unscrewed the lid of a plastic water bottle and revealed two cylindrical tablets which he offered to her in his palm.

"For your head."

A familiar leather and smoke combination thrived into her nostrils and she was sure that this man was indeed Brad. Which meant his intimidating partner could have been Joe because she also recognised his voice from the dispute earlier.

She hesitated, because it could have easily been a way to poison her, but the cap of the water had only just been broken and something about the way Brad was looking at her, all apologetic in his eyes, made her want to trust him this one time.

Joe had not moved, but was sporting a well-practised frown, making sure his feet remained parallel with his stiff shoulders.

She didn't want to be scared of him because it wouldn't help her situation, but his blunt responses and angry stance gave her the impression she should stay away from him.

There wasn't much choice, whatever she may have thought, and she made the decision to take the tablets.

It was tricky when her hands were tied, but she had enough slack from tugging at the ropes and she was desperate for a drink.

"Thank you," she muttered, dipping her head to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.

That was it- she didn't have a second chance to speak- and Joe was moving the lamp back to the corner, and Brad was taking the half empty bottle of water from her grasp. They both left without another word, the door locking with a satisfying click, and she was alone in the blink of an eye.

She stared out the window at the black, starless sky, ridden with fear of what the morning would bring.

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