MILA
The ground was cold and unwelcoming, and a frost had set in overnight. My eyes felt heavy, and my limbs felt weighed down by sandbags. I imagined this was what getting hit by a truck felt like.
Every time I became alert enough to open my eyes and start moving, trying to find a way out of my bonds, one of my kidnappers would run forward and cover my mouth with the drugged handkerchief. My right arm had gone numb from the cold and from me laying on it awkwardly, and the chains around my ankles had rubbed my skin raw.
As my eyelids fluttered open once again. This time I kept my head as still as possible, knowing that any movement would give away my alertness and lead to another drugging.
I wanted my wits about me. If I was ever going to get out of here, I needed to be as alert and
