The TV in the conor is playing some sort of superhero movie. As she sits bloodied in the chair, the women can hear the movie. However it's distorted like a beat up DVD that has scratches on it skipping and pausing and making it distorted. “You didn’t seriously…” followed by a skipping sound “…think I would let anyone but myself…” another pause and something like white noise “...be the one to kill you did you?”

As she slowly moves her eyes from the floor up to the TV, a woman sits there eating popcorn as if it's a perfectly normal movie night. “This is the best part!” she says then slapping the girl tied up to the chair bound and bleeding as if they are best friends. “The kidnappers are about to get their ass kicked. Never fuck with a women with a bad streak.” she sounded like a witch as she laughed.

“Please let me go.” softly escapes her lips, tasting the blood that is entering her mouth and spitting it out. Only to be followed by the sickening sensation of her face being licked from her chin all the way to what must be the wound.

“I would never spit any part of you out.” Smiling mouth covered in blood and kissing the girl. Forcing her to taste her own blood once more. Before the shock makes her pass out.

“I just love these superhero movies.” She says to herself continuing to watch the movie. Acting as if her other party member is awake. About 30 minutes later the movie ends. “Ah! Classic. The villain and the hero falling in love gets me every time.” sniffling and blowing her nose into a tissue. “What should we do next, Christine?”

Christine was barely coming back too when she heard her say this. Dizzy, holding on to hope that someone would come for her. Her eyes try to grasp her surroundings but everything feels as if it's not real. The wooden panel walls, the shag carpet, the barely working DVD player and TV, it felt like she was on the set of a horror movie. Void of anything that would make a house a home. The carpet had burn marks and stains and it clumped in weird places from the lack of care. It was the only thing Christine could look at anymore, her head too heavy to lift.

“Oh shucks. I’m all out of booze. I’ll be back!” The cheer in this stranger's voice hurt more than the wound on her head. The jingling of keys echoed in her brain. This is my only chance she thought as she heard the door close. With all her might she tried to free her hands and feet bound by tape. But the harder she struggled the more it felt like nothing was happening. The tears started rolling down her face, hopelessness was setting in. There was no telling how long she would be gone. She eventually stopped struggling, it's not like she could knock over a bolted down chair. Too weak from the blood loss she sat there awaiting the return of her kidnapper.

Will my arch nemesis come for me too? Who even is that? Were her last thoughts before everything went dark.