It was patently obvious that I was in trouble. Serious trouble.
Regaining consciousness, I rolled over, blinking against the stark brightness in the room. I found myself lying on an old mattress, the dark cover stained and soiled. The room smelled musty, like worn socks that had lain in the bottom of the laundry basket for too long before washing. The last thing I could recall was being dragged away from Striker and Marianne"s wedding celebrations by a group of men. What had happened between then and now, how much time had passed – I didn"t know.
I pushed myself upright on the mattress and looked around. There wasn"t much to see, the mattress lay on a concrete floor; the walls too, were made of solid cement. A tiny window, filmed by a thick coating of grime was situated in the top of one
