Renee Harlow awoke slowly, squinting at her surroundings, only to close them one more time feeling fuzzy. However, the fog began to lift when she suddenly remembered the walls of her room should be painted in Cerulean Blue and Grey and not with Mauve and Toasted Marshmallow.
Where the hell am I?
Dazed, she looked at the plush Renaissance bedroom, her gaze then falling onto her bedside clock to see it was 7: 15 am. Renee was sure she didn't sneak out of the house to go to any party last night. So there's not a chance that she's staying at the host's house nor having a one-night stand with a complete stranger. Renee's pretty sure that she had stayed home and binge-watched a show on Netflix, considering it was a school night. And from what she had recalled, she had been asleep a good 7 hours, yet Renee still felt like the dead.
Did I, by any chance, get kidnapped?
It was an absurd notion she stumbled upon. But nothing explained how she found herself in such an unfamiliar place. However, the room she was in looked nowhere near to a creepy basement. Sitting up now, she gave the orderly room a once-over. To her surprise, she saw a sizeable 30x30 frame of her very own picture hanging on the wall just above the headboard. The only difference was that her usual sharp blue eyes looked warm and honey-brown, making her look like a complete stranger.
Maybe I am being held hostage by some creepy stalker...
She closed her eyes and shook her head as if to shake away the weird thoughts. No, no, there was no way she had attracted some sick pervy dude's attention. It's not some bloody fanfiction. Things like that don't happen so casually in real life. She would've definitely noticed if someone had been stalking her, would she not?
Just as Renee decided to climb off the bed and venture outside to see where she really was, instead of assuming any other bizarre scenarios, a notification ping was heard from underneath the heap of pillows on the colossal mahogany bed, eliciting a startled yelp from her. But Renee was quick to shut her mouth with both hands as to not steer anyone's attention towards her room. She took one quick glance at her surroundings to check no one was about to barge into the room anytime soon. Reassured, she quickly dived to search for the phone — her only way out of whatever situation she was stuck in.
What kind of Kidnapper leaves a phone with the hostage? She couldn't help but think. The answer is, obviously, a stupid one.
She let out a silent scream and stomped her foot on the floor in frustration when she realized the phone was password protected. Still, she didn't lose hope. Taking a deep breath, she hovers her fingers over the keypad and instinctively types the 4 numbers she hoped were the password. 2-5-8-0. And with a ping, it unlocked. Yes, she thought, pumping her fist in the air, her eyes twinkling. What were the chances? That had been her password for her phone as well.
