Complicit
Breathing. It’s all I can hear. Whoever is doing it seems to be rather distressed. Their breath is alarmingly raspy and they’re clearly hyperventilating. Oh. That’s my breathing. The realization helps centre me. I’m me. Wherever I am, it’s pitch black. I try to move, but I can’t, I’m restrained. There is something holding my ankles and arms. I have a brief feeling of terrible vertigo, unsure of which direction is up. After a few horrible seconds, my panic subsides. My feet are on the ground; I am standing upright. I am still restrained. And I don’t have any clothes on. With an effort, I calm my racing breath. In the quiet, I become aware of my thundering heart. I try to think back to how I got here, but my mind feels fogged. Drugs, …