There I was, enjoying a silent night in my apartment, watching the new tv show I was becoming obsessed with. Suddenly, I felt a chill run across my arms.
I found that to be extremely bizarre as the heater was on, and the room was comfortably warm. Just the right amount of heat for a person to enjoy. I paid that no mind.
However, another stronger wave of coldness entered the room intensely. I shudder. Maybe a window has opened. I go to check all the windows around my compact apartment.
As I get close to the last one, I hear a sound. One that doesn't sound like it's coming from the TV, so I wonder what else could it be. I'm starting to become anxious.
A very unwelcome and uneasy feeling comes over me. My whole body is experiencing a reaction, one that is unfamiliar to me, one so fierce that it knocks the wind out of me.
Which seems to be the thing I needed, as I recover from the shock and start moving.
I don't even make a step, when a firm and rough hand is slapped across my mouth, which prevents me from screaming. The last thing I see is my lovely colourful carpet as I black out.
My vision is restricted, as I wake, but not in my house, in a place, that I'm unfamiliar with. The bag, which was put over my head, is lifted and now I see the perpetrators.
I don't recognize them, but they seem to know me. They speak in a language, not known to me. I'm weirdly calm, as I watch them exchange words.
All of a sudden, my face is painted with a liquid. I don't know what it is, as I have closed my eyes, because of the loud sound that resembles a bomb. Maybe someone has come to save me.
As I recover from the ear-piercing ringing, I see that a figure is coming near me, in fast and confident strides. My mind tells me that I'm officially in safe hands.
This is the person who will take me away and bring me home.
As my hands are freed, I can finally touch what was hurled at my face, the unidentified liquid. I place my quivering fingers on my face and then bring them in front of my eyes, to inspect it.
I fall back a step, as I see blood. Fresh, bright red blood. It must be mine, from whenever those thugs tortured me. My savior, as I chose to call him, is sitting close to me.
Looking into my eyes with a twinkle that I cannot decipher. Is he my friend, as I want him to be, or is he another, who seeks my death?
In a whirlwind of movements and punches, I manage to break the weapon out of his hands. It falls to the muddy floor. I make a break to take it.
A hand cluches my foot, attempting to pull me to the ground. I'm stronger than this individual. I grab the gun and shoot at the head. The man's last words are:
- I loved you! How could you do this to us?
I smirk. His blood is on my hands. I won.