Jet woke from her drug-induced slumber. As she opened her eyes, she took in her surroundings. She was lying in a bed in the middle of a room with elegant wood paneling. She must have hit her head, because the room was spinning. She tried getting up, but couldn’t move. She looked at her arms and then her legs. She was tied up! They’d pulled her bad arm back behind her. She should be in agony, but she felt nothing. Jet tried to use her good hand. She could barely move her wrist. She wasn’t going anywhere.

Several minutes later, an older man entered the room.

“You’re awake!” He sat next to her.

“Mmmm—” Jet said.

“If I take this out, will you promise not to scream?”

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Jet nodded. The man took the gag out of her mouth. Jet’s mouth trembled.

“Don’t hurt me!”

“Not planning on it, my dear; my client needs you in tip-top condition. You will stay with me until delivery. The doctor has given you something for the pain. I didn’t want you to feel any discomfort. I’m sorry I tied you up like this, but it’s for your own safety.”

Jet’s eyes became blurry, and tears started flowing down her cheeks. The man touched her cheeks and wiped them away. He was so close she could smell his aftershave. She looked at him again, and to her astonishment she recognized the man. It was the nice man from the coffee shop—the one with the daughter at university.

Jet took a moment to compose herself. She concentrated, and after a few moments she controlled her breathing, trying not to panic. She turned her head slightly and surveyed her surroundings. She was drawn to a small clock near the entrance of the room. It reminded her of something—the therapy session with Dr. Munson, her psychiatrist. That had been over three years ago. She let her mind wander more, and drifted back off into unconsciousness.