It was getting late after browsing through the airport, already seven o’clock, and the sky outside was beginning to darken with the streetlights coming alive.
The airport vicinity was still crowded, and it was this crowd that made Winifred Dawson momentarily forget the time. Glancing at her phone and seeing it was already seven, she panicked. It was only an hour until eight, and she had to get back before then, otherwise, it would be difficult to report back to Garrison Reeves.
Although Garrison Reeves was not present, Winifred Dawson still faithfully adhered to their agreement, not wishing to deceive him over this matter.
Intending to take a shortcut home, Winifred walked down a sparsely populated street. Just as she was about to turn into it, a hand suddenly emerged from a dark corner, firmly covering her mouth.
Winifred hadn’t noticed anything unusual. She often used this route which, despite being less frequented, was generally safe. She liked these quiet paths. Today, tired and late, she was focused solely on getting home and paid little attention to her surroundings until she noticed an extra shadow at her feet but by then, it was too late.
She struggled instinctively, trying to scream for help, but gradually her strength ebbed away, her head spun, and darkness enveloped her vision. Before falling unconscious, the last words she uttered were “Garrison Reeves.”
When she regained consciousness, it was pitch black around her. Winifred felt a severe headache and nausea, likely still under the effect of the drug, her stomach churning with the urge to vomit. Her eyes, struggling to adjust to the dark, reminded her of an innate fear of darkness.
Gasping for air, she stood up, her limbs weak, and slowly remembered what had happened.
She recalled her visit to the airport, wanting to familiarize herself with the surroundings as she planned to surprise Garrison Reeves upon his return the next day. Lost in her stroll, she had failed to notice the time until it was seven. She had hurried to make it back on time but was ambushed and lost consciousness…
Who could it be? Who had drugged and abducted her, and where was she now?
Winifred, her head still heavy, frantically felt around in the darkness. Her eyes had not fully regained vision, and her fear of the dark didn’t help as dim light seeped in through an open window, rustling the curtains with the breeze.
In a state of panic, Winifred couldn’t focus on her surroundings. She searched for her phone, but her pockets were empty no matter how many times she checked.
Terrified, she covered her mouth with one hand to hold back the bitter acidity in her nose. She was scared… Garrison Reeves, Garrison Reeves…
Repeating his name seemed to offer a sliver of strength, calming her fears somewhat. As her vision cleared with the help of the light outside, she finally saw the door.
If she could just get out that door, she could go home.
She had to get home, had to call Garrison Reeves; otherwise, he would worry.
She didn’t know how long she had been gone, whether Garrison Reeves had tried to call her, whether he knew she was in trouble…
Winifred tried to stand, but her body was too weak. She bit her fingers hard, the pain bringing some clarity. Though her mind was alert, her body still lacked strength. She gasped for air as she crawled toward the door, her eyes fixed only on that exit. Forgetting she was still on the bed, she rolled off, crashing loudly to the floor, her forehead slamming against the bedside table, sending a buzzing through her ears.
“It hurts so much…”
Winifred Dawson’s pain brought tears to her eyes, yet she dared not make a sound. After briefly composing herself, she began crawling towards the door, using her hands and feet.
One step… Two steps…
She couldn’t stand up or walk. The mere twenty meters felt incredibly distant, as if separated by mountains and seas, and she struggled mightily to crawl the distance.
Along the way, she tried to stand up, but her limbs were terribly weak, as if her tendons had been severed. Her entire body felt limp and flimsy as she crawled forward, an effort that was immensely draining and soon had her sweating profusely.
Winifred Dawson’s body was prone to sweating. Small strands of hair stuck to her forehead, some even trickling into her eyes, causing unbearable stinging. She rapidly blinked to ease the discomfort but dared not close her eyes.
Almost there, finally almost there. Once outside, she could call for help, and contact Garrison Reeves.
With a final effort using her limbs, she was just two steps away from touching the door when it suddenly opened. Winifred Dawson’s heart constricted, her pupils dilated, and she saw a pair of black leather shoes in her line of sight. She didn’t dare look up, nor let her eyes wander.
She wished it were just a nightmare, that she would wake up the next second. Frozen with fear, she could feel a gaze pressing down from above, as if a massive invisible mountain were crushing her.
Her hot sweat turned cold, and despite her fear, she couldn’t close her eyes. Her breathing was rapid, causing her teeth to chatter.
In those few seconds, it felt as though she had lain on a bed of red-hot nails for a century.
Then, the feet moved towards her, and the next second, her neck was grasped, forcefully lifting her head. Through the light from outside, she saw the face of the intruder.
The man’s features were as handsome as if painted, charming and profound, exuding an icy, oppressive aura. A sense of familiarity seeped from deep within her.
“Who are you, and why are you in my room?” His voice was magnetic and very pleasant to hear, but Winifred Dawson had no time to appreciate it. She was terrified, the grip on her neck tightening, feeling as if her neck would break the next moment. She breathed in pain, a muffled moan escaping her throat.
Her eyes pleaded with the man’s face, perhaps stirring something within him, for he then released her neck, and she collapsed back onto the floor.
She touched her neck, coughing, tears at the corners of her eyes, timid, panicked, and wary of the man before her.
The familiar feeling came and went quickly; now, all she felt was fear, wanting to escape. She sensed danger from this man, catching a complex look in his eyes.
Additionally, she felt something abnormal about the man’s breath, heavy and restrained, which brought a sense of heat, unusual.
Belatedly, she realized that when the man had gripped her neck, there was an abnormal burning sensation in his palm.
Winifred Dawson sat on the floor, leaning back on her hands, wanting to speak, but her throat felt blocked, unable to make a sound. She could only shake her head at the man, indicating she didn’t know why she was there, her eyes soft and pleading as she looked past him towards the door.
But the next second, she heard the man’s hoarse voice call out her name: “Winifred Dawson.”