Chapter One: The Hardest Part Of Waking Up Is Finding Your Clothes

I'd like to say that when I woke up, I opened my eyes, laid there for a moment, and calmly thought about my situation. I didn't. I'm just not that kind of girl. As soon as I woke up and felt leaves and grass and rocks digging into my body, I jumped up off the ground and began panicking.

"ANTS! BUGS! ANTS IN MY VAGINA!"

When I was a little kid, I hardly ever cleaned my room and I usually left food sitting out. I'm not proud of it, but I was and am lazy when it comes to chores. Besides, it never caused a problem, as long as my mom didn't know about it. Well, that is, until the ants eventually discovered a way into my room. One night, they came in through the window, which my bed was under. The next morning, I woke up and felt crumbs in my bed. And the crumbs were moving.

Growing up in Florida, I was no stranger to bugs and I could stomp a roach or a spider with the best of them. But after the ants had gotten in my bed and under my covers, my greatest fear was born. Not a fear of all insects necessarily, but of the ones that could manage to get wherever they wanted to go. I mean, if my bed, my haven, wasn't immune to ants, then nowhere was safe... least of all my orifices.

So, as soon as I was standing, I wildly brushed all the dirt off of my body and checked every crevice for creatures. Miracle upon miracles, I was alright. I stared up at the full moon above me, the only light in the area, as I pondered the dilemma before me. "Why exactly am I naked?"

A million reasons ran through my head and I decided to imagine the worst possible and work back from there. "Shit. Was I raped?" I didn't feel any pain between my legs, and I didn't feel like I was wet or sticky or anything. But who knew how long I'd been out here... and he could've used a condom... Was I being politically incorrect to call the might-be-rapist a he?

I decided to look around the slight clearing where I was for my clothes and some evidence of what happened to me. I thought that maybe I would find a used condom or some beer bottles with DNA. When I didn't see anything in the immediate area, my nakedness started to bother me. Even though I was pretty sure there was no one else in these woods, it was still upsetting to think of someone coming wandering through and seeing everything I had to offer.

Deciding I could hold my breasts with one arm, I hit a wall when trying to figure out how to cover up between my legs. "Come on, Molly. Ass or vagina. Make a choice." It was a Sophie's Choice of nakedness. One hand could cover the front, but my vagina was more between my legs... who cared if they saw the light triangle of hair in front? It wasn't like they could see labia or anything. But then again, what did it matter if someone saw my ass cheeks? People wore thongs all the time on the beach.

I grew frustrated at the whole 50/50 decision thing and decided to just grab a leafy branch to hold in front of me. It was basically as good as hiding behind a bush. If it worked for Eve, it could work for me.

I walked around to do a more thorough search, never straying too far from where I woke up, but I couldn't find anything. I figured I might have missed something, but I doubted it. The full moon was lighting the area pretty well. There was no evidence to be found of a party, let alone anything that even suggested a person had been there in a while. But it did smell like there had been a fire.

At first I was disappointed to not find any clues that I could Nancy Drew into a theory of how I'd gotten there, but then I came to the conclusion that I was impressed by whoever had dragged me out here. "Damn right I didn't find anything. If I was raped, it sure as hell better have been someone smart enough to take the condom with him... I'm not going to get some jerkoff on his first time out."

I laughed at that, and barely kept from slapping myself across the face. "I'm the stupidest bitch on the face of the Earth. I wake up naked and start complimenting the rapist for being smart enough to trick me."

Half crossing my arms, half hugging myself, I tried to get ahold of my common sense. "Come on, Molly. Think. And maybe stop talking to yourself." I felt like if someone found me, talking to no one and naked, they'd definitely think I was crazy.

But then I decided that I didn't really care. If ever there were a time to let go of my neuroses, this was it. "You were abducted and taken to a place that I'm almost positive we've never been to before. No worries about looking like an asshole right now. All your insanity will be forgiven later."

I was right. Logic was what I needed now, not low self-esteem. I could be as crazy as I wanted, as long as I figured out what happened to me. So I tried to walk myself through the questions a cop might ask. Like, what was the last thing I remembered?

I was sure I didn't remember being abducted. I felt like I went to bed and then just woke up here. But who was to say that I wasn't recalling going to sleep because that's what I should've done? "Okay, calm down. Don't think about what you don't know, think about what you do know. Try to think of something specific. Like, what's the last thing you remember watching on TV?"

Of course. TV was my sanity. I was always obsessed with one show or another. Elementary school was Sailor Moon. Middle and most of high school was Buffy. If anything was a good timeline of my life, it was television.

But then I remembered that it was June. There was no new TV. All I could think of were reruns. There would be no hope found there. Hell, True Blood wasn't even starting for 2 weeks yet. Wait! True Blood!

Being a huge fan, time had been moving all too slowly as I edged closer to season 5, so I had spent the night getting in the mood for the upcoming premiere by doodling on my calendar a very detailed set of little vampire-fanged Smiley Faces. Then I went to bed early and read fanfic, because I was supposed to go out with my mom the next morning. I was sure that it had been Sunday night, exactly two weeks til the premiere. So, June 5th.

"Yes! You remembered the last moment of your life! Good job, Molly!" I began to do a celebratory dance, but then my breasts started bouncing a little too much and I was brought back to reality. Right. Naked. Other problems to solve. Dance comes later.

So the last night that I could recall was a Sunday. What did that tell me?

Well, I wouldn't have partied on a Sunday... Maybe on a Thursday, but not on Sunday through Wednesday. I had SOME standards. So it wasn't like I took some bad acid or went out to a bar and drank from a cup that wasn't mine. Besides, even if I had taken something on the Thursday after, there was no drug that erased nearly a WEEK of memory. Even Rohypnol's not that good.

Thinking about the past wasn't the treasure trove of solutions that I thought it would be. It wasn't going to be like Saw, where I'd recall someone coming from behind me and putting a rag over my mouth. I was right back where I started: naked in the woods with no answers.

Just then, a loud car with a bass-thumping beat passed nearby. I was annoyed for a split-second before I realized that it meant there was a road. I could flag down someone from there. I could get help. Clothes. The police. I could get home.

I began walking in the direction I assumed the music was coming from. It had seemed close by, but there were no street lights that I could see through the trees. Where was I that was so far from street lights? The Everglades?

I stopped walking when I realized that I was probably going to have to bring the cops back here. I found my way back to where I woke up and dragged a few big branches over to mark the area with an X. I returned to my hike and, as I made my way through the forest, I dragged another log over to my path every once in a while. I broke off branches as much as I could until my hands started to hurt.

It wasn't long before the trees ended and I had reached the open area of the street. It was paved, but not super-paved like the interstate. It reminded me of the shale drive that I lived on in Vero Beach. There were no mile markers. I pulled two more branches over and placed them in another X near the curb.

Faced with the question of how to make my next move, I stared up and down in each direction of the road, but I couldn't decide which way was more likely to lead to help. Both alternatives looked exactly the same: a dark, never-ending path with no sign of hope.

I'd taken long drives on back roads like this ever since I had a driver's license. The Old Melbourne Highway was a personal favorite. Even though I could sometimes make better time on I-95, I always took 192 when I was going home from college because it was so quiet and pitch black. At night, it was a beautiful trip with hardly any other cars on the road. It made me feel like I could've been driving anywhere, forever.

Old Mel had hardly any street lights. There were no stores, but there was a ranch every once in a while and a Christian campsite. It was called "Jesus Chap," as the 'el' was knocked off or not lit up properly. I always giggled when I passed it, thinking of that Jesus Chap. Besides that, though, it was probably a good 90 miles of nothing.

Now, without my lovable little Toyota, the possibility that this road was just like 192 loomed in front of me. Whatever direction I chose, I could very possibly wind up taking either the short way or the long way to civilization. Or I could be at the very middle.

Faced with another 50/50 decision, I smiled and shook my head at myself. "Well, then it really doesn't matter, does it? Pick a lane, Molly."

I turned left and walked towards any oncoming traffic. Somewhere in the back of my head, I thought that this was somehow illegal. Was this what jaywalking was? I remembered my mother always told me to walk and bicycle on the correct side of the road, because then you wouldn't get run over. But I never truly understood that advice. Pedestrian law was an alien idea to me because I always had my car or I didn't go anywhere. But when my mother gave me advice, I usually listened to it.

Except this was a situation where I was trying to see a car coming, not trying to avoid them. So I overruled my mother's voice in my head. This was the smarter way. I could see the headlights coming toward me instead of having my back to them.

Despite this plan, I didn't actually look for any oncoming cars as I went forward. I stared at my feet and the ground for most of the way. I was afraid that I might step on broken glass or an ant hill, or even squish my toes into dead road kill, and the last thing I needed was to fuck my feet up when I probably had a lot of walking ahead of me.

It turned out it was pretty reasonable to watch where I was treading. There was quite a bit of litter, including a few beer bottles, and I was careful to step over anything that looked iffy. But then I saw an empty-ish True Blood bottle about 5 feet away from the curb. I grinned at the idea that someone else had bought some from the HBO website. For about half a second, I entertained the thought of picking it up and keeping it, but the idea was crazy. "Really, Molly. Priorities here! Just keep walking." Besides, I had my own at home. Expanding my collection was not important.

I started singing to myself a song that I knew most of the words to. It was a strategy I used whenever I went to Disney World and got so tired that I could barely make my way back to the parking lot. I would sing Every Morning by Sugar Ray and just keep focusing on moving my feet to the beat.

After about ten minutes, and on my fourth run through of the song, there had been no sign of cars and I was starting feel a little down on my luck. My feet hurt already and I had to start walking on the grass.

I needed to keep my spirits up. "Don't feel down, chicky. Just think, you're 10 minutes closer to the next car. That's all. Every morning when I wake up there's a halo glowing from the corner of my four-post bed... I know it's not mine, but I'll see if I can use it..."

I saw three more True Blood bottles as I walked. I told myself that it wasn't a big deal. I was actually pretty proud that I didn't even entertain the thought of picking them up. Somebody lost a trash bag with a 4-pack in it, and that was that. I had more important things on my mind.

A few hundred yards down, and halfway through the eighth run-through of the song, I saw the fifth one.

Now, I'm a believer in fate. It's one of my cuter qualities. So I started wondering if God or destiny or whatever was telling me that I NEEDED to pick up this bottle. Maybe it was a clue or something. Maybe whoever kidnapped, or drugged and possibly raped me, was someone I knew from one of my TB message boards and he was the one who had left it here. Maybe this was God trying to give me evidence.

I took a few cautious steps away from the road and stepped around a largish brown anthill. I moved closer to the bottle, its red glass shining in the moonlight was like a beacon. Then I saw that the words on the label were sort of shifting around.

To the credit of how insane this night was making me and what a dumb bitch I probably am, I have to admit what my first thought was. "Is this a magic bottle? Is a genie going to pop out if I clean it off?"

I got a little excited by that idea and leaned forward to look at it closer, when I realized it was not the label that was moving. The bottle was covered in ants.

I jumped back, nearly into the anthill, and then literally scampered to the relative safety of the shale road. The pebbles dug into my feet, but I was grateful for the sanctuary. I balanced on one leg then the other as I brushed off my soles.

Stupid fucking bottle... This was not a sign from God, this was just road trash. "But why are there so many? What am I going to find next? Is there going to be some Slusho cups out here covered in roaches? A Buzz Beer with spiders?"

I shivered a few times, but got myself under control relatively quickly for my standards and continued on with my hike. Before I could think more about the situation, I heard the thumping bass of a car stereo system again. Of course it was my luck that it was coming from behind me. I wondered if it was the same car from earlier, but I couldn't be sure. Then I decided I didn't even really care. It was a car and I needed help.

I ran as far into the middle of the road as I felt was safe, hiding behind my trusty makeshift bush. I waved my arms and screamed, "Help! Please stop!"

It was a truck, black I think? The music kept pounding closer and closer until I started to worry it was going to run me over. I moved over to the side and watched as it just went past without even slowing down.

Then I got pissed.

I shouted, "Fuck you! Karma will get you for this one!" as loud as I could, holding up my free hand's middle finger. I prayed that whoever was driving would get stranded naked in the woods and be lost like me, then had to watch as I just drove on fucking by. A small voice in the back of my head said that I would never do that, but I sure as hell wanted to.

I stared at it driving away when I saw the red brake lights come on. He pulled over! The bass music stopped, then the red lights turned off after that. I could sort of see the truck in the bright night, but it seemed pretty far away with the lights off.

Not caring about my feet at that point, I just started running. The pebbles dug in, but I ignored them. I had a hero! I was saved! Sure, it took swearing at them, but they had actually stopped for me! I took back all my evil prayers. I would apologize profusely for swearing and getting mad. In my head, I started planning the "Poor Me" speech. 'Please, Mister, I might've been raped. I need the cops. Please help me.'

As I got closer, I heard the beeping that meant one of the doors was open. The lights were on inside, too, but I hadn't seen anyone get out. I looked around and started shouting at the woods and vaguely in the vicinity of the truck.

"Hello? I don't know where you went, but, please! I swear I'm not crazy! I just need help! I'm sorry for flipping you off! If you could just call the cops for me, I'd really appreciate it! I think someone kidnapped me!"

When I reached the back of the truck, I could see that someone had left the driver's side door open a crack. I leaned against the gate and peeked into the truck bed, but I was disappointed to find that there was nothing there. No toolbox, no trash. It was pretty near spotless. No evidence that said what kind of person the driver was. Not so much as a can of Skoal or maybe even some dead bodies under a tarp.

Thinking about dead bodies was enough to send me down one of my paranoid trains of thought. My mind started throwing images at me. Maybe some crazy redneck would be crouched down in the driver's seat, pointing a shotgun at me. Or maybe there'd be a baby in a carseat, giggling, and then someone would come from behind me and strangle me with a garrote.

I congratulated myself mentally for remembering the word garrote, but I was stopped in my tracks and frozen with fear. What if this was the person who had brought me out here? What if I was walking right into a trap?

Out loud, I was just saying over and over again that I really needed help. But, mentally, I was trying to decide what to do. Another 50/50 decision. Check out the truck or run away. If I looked inside and tried to find whoever had been driving, there was a possibility that I'd get murdered. But my other option was that I could keep walking and hope for another car to show up.

Fuck that one. I was not going back to walking.

This was getting annoying. It probably wasn't a murderer, anyway. But fuck that guy for leaving his truck behind. I was gonna take it. Maybe if there was a cell phone inside or a CB radio or something, I could just take that.

Squaring my shoulders and gathering my bravery, I moved forward with the branch held up, ready to attack if I needed to. If anyone tried to kill me, they were at the very least going to get a stick in the eye. Good luck wearing an eye patch for the rest of your life, fucker.

Inside of the truck, there was no baby. No redneck with a shotgun. No one was in there at all. But, in the driver's seat, there was a large cardboard box about the size that my 20" TV had come in. On top of it, there was a manila envelope with one simple word on it. "MOLLY."

My mind exploded in incomprehension. If there was a little white thought bubble over my head, it would've simply said, "WTF!"

Then the logic of this situation was plain as day to me. Somebody was playing fucking mind games with me. I'm the motherfucking Most Dangerous Game. Somebody's setting me up with the means to defend myself, maybe a small hunting knife or something, and I was going to have a 15 minute head start to run for my fucking life.

I looked around again, but no one was there. I pushed the box along the bench seat of the truck and became frustrated when it only moved about 2 feet. I figured it had gotten caught on one of the seatbelts, but I didn't give a shit. It was enough room for me to squeeze in.

I closed and locked the doors, leaving my branch outside on the road. I checked the steering wheel column, only to discover that whoever had abandoned the vehicle didn't leave the keys in the ignition. "FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

I started thrashing around in the seat, punching the steering wheel and having an overall tantrum. I nearly tore down the sun visor, hoping against hope that there'd be a spare set of keys hidden up there. There wasn't.

Without any other plans, I usually play life like a video game. You always need a weapon and there's always a way out. I checked the glove compartment, but it was empty except for the owner's manual. I looked under the seats and, again, there was nothing. Like its bed, the cab of the truck was remarkably clean and looked like it had been vacuumed recently. I did find a duffel bag on the other side of the box, which had been the thing keeping me from having more room on the bench.

I let my hands fall in my lap and glared at the envelope with my name on it. I glared at the box. I glared at the duffel bag. I glared with all my might. I didn't want to see what was left for me, but there were no other options of where to go from there. I wasn't getting out of the relative safety of the truck any time soon. There were no hidden items like a health pack anywhere. I was going to have to play this sick motherfucker's game.

I growled and ripped the top off of the envelope. "Fine, but I'm going to win. You don't know who you're fucking dealing with, asshole." This fucked up night was going to end as soon as possible. Either with my death or somebody else's. I wasn't going to drag it out any longer.

Author's Note: Feedback is a gift from the fangirl gods. It's also a great inspiration. Please, feed the monsters?