Her eyes fluttered open, a throbbing pain immersing her in and out of consciousness.
She soon became aware of arctic metal shackling her wrists together, no doubt grazing her skin with blossoms of salmon.

Her feet were also bound.

What the hell is happening? She thought to herself, as the agony in her head erected further.
The enclosing darkness teased her eyes and she blinked rapidly in a fruitless attempt to free herself of the moths that littered her vision.
She heard a sudden click, which was ensued by the opening of a door to dribble a segment of light into the room.
The door opened further, and the light streamed ever closer to her like a gushing river, scattering the yielding crepuscule with hyper stars of emanation.
Then a boot-clad foot stepped through and a hand closed around the door.

The hand was...pretty.

Ugh. She mentally slapped herself.
Nope. definitely not the time to faun over a hand.

As swifly as it emerged, the hand withdrew.

Her breath hitched in her throat when the hand reappeared, lazily tilting a pistol towards her. The grin of the light painted the metal an argent shade of grey.

An index finger began to caress the gun, fondling it with an air of dominance.

Her stomach clenched, tense.
© Noor Mahroof