I did not picture my morning waking up in a tub of ice. A tub, yes. A tub with ice? Not so much.

My eyes blurred then focused on a moldy ceiling. The room was dimly lit with flickering fluorescent lights casting eerie shadows across the walls. Panic set in as my senses were slowly coming back to me. A cold numbness penetrated my skin making me shiver. The acrid smell of bleach filled my nostrils, making me gag.

Who's nasty ass bathroom was this? Certainly not mine. I always made sure to change the lightbulbs.

The pain that bloomed in my stomach and side was excruciating as I tried to sit up. Clutching the edge of the tub, I hoisted myself up, the effort leaving me gasping for breath. Once I managed to sit on the edge, I squeezed my eyes shut, willing them to focus. When I opened them again all I saw was a can of Red Bull sitting on top of a bloody sink.

My body protested with each step as I made my way to the mirror. And was greeted by a stranger.

Traces of blood marred my brown skin. My locs were a disheveled mess and I was in nothing but my underclothes. A bruise was forming on my cheek. My hands were caked in blood. They visibly shook as I tentatively touched the horizontal stitch going across my lower abdomen. Further inspection made me find the second stitch near my backside. I looked and felt like shit.

What the hell happened?

A throbbing pain with the promise of a headache was around the corner. I popped open the Red Bull and took a swig, grimacing at its warmness. It was then that I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.

An inhaler.

Memories began to flood back from the day before. I took one hard long look at myself in the mirror as glimpses of what happened flashed through my head. At that point it was decided.

Carter that Scottish blue eyed prick had to die.