“Because I’m used to this shit,” I answer.
“You’re used to being bound and blindfolded?”
“I am.”
They’re quiet for a moment before Britney asks, “Who are you?”
“My name is Skye.”
“Skye?” Fay repeats, sounding strange.
My voice is painfully bright. “With an ‘e’.”
More silence.
Then, “SkyeCross?”
I can’t even be abducted by a serial killer without being recognized by my fellow captives.
“Yep,” I murmur.
“Holy shit, you’re a slut,” Fay says.
Here we go again.
“Coming from a hooker, should I feel insulted?” I ask dryly.
“I fuck for money. You fuck for attention. You’re way worse.”
“Way worse,” Britney says under her breath.
I would roll my eyes if they weren’t pressed so tightly against this cloth. “Ladies, we are supposed to be a team—"
“I don’t want to have a bitch on my team,” Fay interrupts. “You’re on your own.”
“You don’t even know my story,” I argue, tugging once more at the rope constricting my arms.
“Is this the part you tell us it?” she asks rudely.
I force myself to my feet, feeling unbalanced. Must be the drug still wearing off on me. “No, you don’t have to know my story, but it’s a good story is all.”
“We don’t fucking care!”
Rude.
Now they ignore me and start to search for one another in the room.
“Come to the sound of my voice,” Fay directs.
“I’m coming.”
“Faster, Brit!”
“Why are we in such a fucking hurry? Where do you gotta be right now?”
As they have their spat, I’m moving down the stone wall, trying to find the door. It’ll be locked, I’m sure, but it’s a start. As I trail along, I pause every few moments to run my face along the stone, hoping to nudge the blindfold up my forehead. It’s tightly secured. I might have to ask one of these assholes to do it for me if push comes to shove.
The stone wall disappears as my fingers skim along a different surface. I dig my nails into it, recognizing the feel of wood. I go still now, searching for the knob. At the feel of it, I feel a spark of hope. “I found the door,” I say in a rush. “I’m trying to open it.”