Meghan slowly opened her right eye. It was crusted over. When she tried to wipe it with her right hand, she found that her arm was immobilized. Panic shaking loose the cobwebs, she struggled to free it, only to learn that her entire body was immobilized. She couldn’t turn her head but, once she got her bearings, realized that she was suspended somehow, her limbs and head held in stasis, with her head cocked backward slightly. She couldn’t even see her body.
What was happening? The last thing Meghan remembered, she and her friends Alyse and Stacey were at Bonnaroo, making plans to see Cashmere Cat in the night. People used to call Meghan, Alyse, and Stacey the triplets, on account of how similarly they all looked and dressed - each was blonde, between 5’ 6” and 5’ 8”, solid B cup, abs and asses made of bronzen steel, clothes straight off the runway, just a single, small, discretely-placed tattoo, etc. They even had a small business together - a blog / social media empire (“FashionBitches.com”) where they took turns modeling expensive clothes other folks paid them to wear. In fact, they had spent weeks coordinating their outfits and sponsors for the festival. How did Meghan go from there to here? It was so hard to remember.
Meghan decided to table that question - she sensed that she was in danger. She didn’t know how she wound up in this predicament, but she was going to figure out a way to escape. Quietly, she took in her surroundings. She was being held in a fairly dark room. A sliver of light descended from the ceiling and illuminated a nondescript wall and door.
Meghan again struggled, to no avail. With little to lose, she opened her lungs and started screaming. That’s when she felt the gag in her mouth.