Uncovering Lily

The sounds of partying and sex have finally ended, and the house has grown silent. Sneaking out should be easy. Grasping the door handle with a shaking hand, I whisper, “It’s now or never.” The knob turns, and the door thankfully opens—my captors haven’t locked me in the small prison-like room. Two days ago, at least, I think it was. I woke up disoriented from whatever drugs they had injected me and with the worst hangover I have ever experienced.

Last year’s tequila-fueled New Year’s doesn’t even compare! The small room swam before my eyes, and I was too dizzy to comprehend what was happening. I only knew one thing: I had been kidnapped. I have since deduced that I’m most likely not in Paris. They aren’t speaking French; instead, what I assume is Chinese Mandarin, so I have not understood a fucking word they’ve said to me through the drugged-induced haze. Last semester I should have taken Mandarin instead of fucking French. It would’ve been a hell of a lot more useful! Who needs to speak French anyway?