SARAH
I hear the heavy metal door open—or does it close? It’s impossible to tell with my eyes shut from sheer exhaustion. Even my slow breaths take a lot of energy from me.
My tongue feels heavy and dry in my mouth, almost crispy. Most importantly, I smell and feel like s**t.
The footsteps draw closer and closer. When they finally stop in front of me, the pungent smell of his aftershave fills my nostrils.
Someone has taken a shower. Lucky him.
This means he doesn’t live too far from here. Did this motherfucker lock me in his f*****g garage? That would explain the metal door.
“You might want to eat something.” He says, stepping into the light. I know because I can see his shadow with my eyes closed.
Weird, I know. In the course of how many hours I’ve been here, I’ve developed
