Lost in the past is a dangerous place to be because it’s the present that has caused me the most harm, and now is no exception. I turn, but it’s too late. This trip down memory lane has cost me when my world is shrouded in darkness; thanks to the pillowcase shoved over my head.
I kick out blindly, but it’s in vain when someone sucker punches me straight in the guts.
Winded, I take a step back, only to be punched in the kidneys. And then the back.
Falling to my knees, I scramble to take off the pillowcase, but someone grips my arm and twists it back behind me, threatening to break it.
But I don’t go out like this.
I stop struggling and study the sounds around me, and when I hear an intake of breath to the left, I strike out with my free hand and connect with something soft. The wheeze
