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Summary
In retrospect, spitting in his face was probably a mistake. He had let out a sound somewhere between a cat throwing up and tiger snarling and then next thing I knew there was a hand on my throat, my eyes bulging out of my skull, and then– nothing.
I have never claimed to be brilliant. But I do learn my lessons. Lesson here? Not only is infuriating the man who’s kidnapped you a bad idea, spending the car ride to his super-secret hideout unconscious means that I have absolutely no idea where we are. The only thing I know for sure? This guy has a serious vendetta against my family and I just became his new house guest for the next year at the end of which he fully intends to kill me. Even better? He keeps looking at me like a starving man staring at a steak.
I am so fucked.