Page 1 of Bad For A Weekend

Baylor

Everything hurts. I’m in that place between consciousness, where my body is asleep, but my mind is foggy. Something’s off, though I can’t pinpoint what it is. The niggling is too strong to ignore, so I will myself to wake up.

My eyes flutter open to darkness. The pungent stench of mold and urine hits my nose, and I startle, gasping.

Where the hell am I?

I feel smooth square tiles as I push myself to sit. Fighting through a wave of nausea and dizziness, I cross my legs, lean forward, and breathe through my mouth to avoid the stink in the air, but it’s so thick I can taste it. I retch into the space between my legs, causing tears to spring to my eyes from the exertion.

This is all wrong.

Last I remember, I was in my bed scrolling through TikTok. Sleep kept pulling me under, but I fought it because it was only nine. What eighteen-year-old goes to sleep at nine on a Friday night? But we were under a deadline to get the final school paper out, and I’d been running myself ragged all week.

That’s my last memory before waking up here.

But where is here?

My panting breaths echo as I feel around with shaky hands. I come across a cold, smooth object and pat my way up until I realize it’s a toilet. My hands retract as if I were touching fire. If the smell is this bad, then this toilet hasn’t been cleaned in a very long time.

Okay, so I’m in a bathroom. Notmybathroom, though. Brandy runs a tight household, and my bathroom always smells of her homemade citrus disinfectant.

A loud crash sounds from outside the room, making me flinch.

“LAPD! Come out with your hands up!” a deep voice thunders.

My heart pounds in my chest, and I instinctively lift my hands, though I’m certain he’s not talking to me. The obvious hits me, and I tremble. Are they here to rescue me?

The door hits a wall, and someone shouts, “Clear!”

“Help!” I cry.

Muffled words are spoken as heavy footsteps get closer, and I yell out again.

“She’s in here.” The doorknob jiggles. “Get back. I have to break the door down.”

I push away from the direction of their voices until my back meets something solid and I wait, cowering. There’s another crash before a blinding light hits me. I block it with my hands and close my eyes.

“She’s here,” a man says, flicking on the bathroom light and giving me the first look at where I am.

The bathroom is old, and the fixtures are rusted. The once-white tile is yellowed, and mildew grows along the grout. The toilet is how I expected, full of urine and shit, piled high with toilet paper. I gag but manage to keep down whatever’s left inside my stomach.

“Baylor? Thank God. Oh, fuck. Baylor. I was so scared.” Dad lifts me to standing and wraps his arms around me. He peppers kisses on the side of my head. “Are you okay, baby? Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Are you hurt? Can you walk?”

His questions are rapid-fire, not giving me a chance to answer, so I just nod frantically. I’ve never been happier to see him, which says a lot since he’s my favorite person. He adopted me at birth and never married, so it’s only ever been him and me.

“Let me escort you two out,” a man dressed in all black says, placing a hand on Dad’s elbow.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get out of this hellhole.” Dad wraps an arm around my waist and helps me as I limp down a hallway and through a living room before we finally reach fresh air. Well, the freshest air that L.A. can offer.

It’s still dark outside, but the street is illuminated with the flashing lights of an insane number of emergency vehicles. Dilapidated houses sit one after the other with barred-up windows and chipped paint. I glance behind me to see that the house I was in looks the same.

“What happened?” I ask as Dad leads me to a blacked-out SUV.

“It’s all my fault. I’ll never forgive myself.”

“For what?” I try again.

“There were some... emails. I thought they were like all the others, but apparently, they weren’t. Someone took you from your bed last night.”

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