Page 1 of Already Lost

CHAPTER ONE

Dakotawoke up with a start, unsure how long she had been sleeping. She had no memoryof falling asleep, or even going home –

Andshe wasn’t home. As she blinked her eyes to try and clear them, to no success,she knew that she wasn’t in a familiar place. Where was she? How did she gethere?

Therewas something hard under her shoulder and back – a cold floor, maybe concreteor wood. She managed to turn her head, heavy and pounding, to the side enoughto blink her eyes at it. Concrete. She was laying on concrete.

Theroom was dim, hard to see. Or maybe it was her eyes. She couldn’t tell, but itfelt like there was a film over them, or gauze, or a piece of dust right in hereyelashes that she couldn’t blink away. Dakota tried to move again and her headspun like she was drunk. She didn’t remember drinking. She felt like she mighthave remembered at least going to a bar, but there was nothing. Reaching forthe last thing she remembered, she found it hazy and unclear. It was so hard tothink. Why couldn’t she think?

Thingswere starting to come back into focus a little the more she blinked. Shegroaned quietly, unable to stop as her head throbbed. She rested back againstthe concrete for a moment, feeling the chill spread through her skull. It was agrounding sensation, almost helpful. She was starting to see things moreclearly.

Theroom she was in was larger than she’d thought at first. From this angle all shecould really make out was a far wall with a boarded-up window, chinks of lightbreaking through it in a couple of spots and almost blinding her. Those rays oflight played across a floor that was scattered with dead leaves and brokenfurniture pieces, and dust floated thickly through them. Abandoned. Wherevershe was, the place was abandoned.

Musicstarted to play somewhere behind her, making her jump mentally more thanphysically. When she tried to move to turn and see where the sound was comingfrom, she realized that it wasn’t just her head holding her back from moving.She was tied up, ropes around her wrists and ankles, keeping her tightly held.She could feel them now that she was aware of them, like each small part of herbody was taking its own time in coming back to her.

Therewas an awful taste in her mouth. Her tongue felt heavy, cottony. What hadhappened? Had she been drugged? Was that why she couldn’t remember a thing?

Whowould do that kind of thing and bring her here?

Andwhy?

Adread rising up in her suggested that she didn’t really want to know theanswer.

Themusic was coiling around her like tendrils, an old, fuzzy kind of song thatmust have been from the 1930s or so. She vaguely felt she might recognize it,maybe from some old film that she’d seen. She shuffled herself, pushing hershoulder against the ground and straining against the pain in her head, untilshe could tilt her chin up at a more extreme angle and try to see what washappening on the other side of the room.

Shecaught sight of a large machine – a gramophone, her head supplied, though shedidn’t think she’d ever actually seen one in real life. The huge golden hornabove the record player gleamed faintly in the light, and she recognized it asthe source of the music. It looked old, like it was a real period gramophonethat had been restored, not a replica. It must have been worth a fortune,especially given that it worked. What was it doing in an old, abandonedbuilding like this?

Somethingmoved in the shadows at the edges of her vision and she snapped her head roundfurther, reeling from the way her brain seemed to rock against her skull, untilshe saw it fully. A shape. No – a man. He was standing not far from thegramophone, watching her. Doing something. Tying something – a bowtie. He wastying a bowtie around his neck.

Whywas he tying a bowtie around his neck?

Everythingseemed incongruous, impossible to explain. A man tying a bowtie, an ancientgramophone playing an old song, an abandoned building. And what was her placeamong all of them? Why was she here?

Theman began to move towards her, and shafts of light fell over him as he walkedthrough them, illuminating his face before plunging it back into shadow. Shedidn’t recognize him. If you found yourself tied up in an abandoned buildinglistening to gramophone music, there was a certain expectation, she felt, thatyou would see someone you knew. A best friend who would shout ‘surprise’ beforethe rest of the party appeared. A sorority sister to explain that this was allpart of Hell Week. She had no idea what other context there could be, whatother reason she could have for being here.

Maybeshe’d fainted and they’d tied her up to stop her having a fit and brought herto the nearest shelter while they waited for an ambulance –

Butshe knew, even as she sought desperately for an innocent reason, that this wasn’tthe case.

She’dbeen drugged, tied up, and brought here – to a place where no one would thinkto look.

Thatwas what this was, wasn’t it?

Andthis man, this man moving towards her…

Was hejust going to kill her?

Orworse?

“May Ihave this dance?” he said, his voice a low murmur but strong and proud againstthe backdrop of the music, like he was the male lead in a movie. He stretchedout a hand towards her, like she would reach up and take it, like this was promand he was the boy she’d been crushing on all year.

Shewanted to ask him who he was. Why he’d brought her here. What this was allabout. What he was going to do. How he expected her to take his hand when shewas tied up on the floor.

Instead,Dakota only managed a whimper.

“Ofcourse,” he said, his voice that same husky low tone, as if he was putting iton. “How silly of me. Allow me to help you up.”

Dakotacouldn’t shrink away from him fast enough. He reached down around her knees andtook her shoulders and lifted her into the air, tilting her until her feet metthe floor. She was still wearing her shoes. In fact, she was fully dressed.That seemed like a good sign, didn’t it? But still…

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