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Scene 4

A faint, strangely medicinal smell lingered in her head. She couldn't breath it out. Were her eyes closed, or was it night? As her fog lifted, the voices surrounding her slowly separated, the jumbled hum grew clear, distinct.

Alexis slowly turned her head as she struggled toward consciousness. Her skin was met with the an icy-cold surface that sent a shock through her face. Wincing, she opened her eyes and blinked them hard against the assault of naked lights. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.

"Miss Davis! So glad you could join us."

That voice...that voice again. She tried to open her eyes, but it was too bright. Her hand shook as she raised it to her forehead, attempting to shield her pupils from the glare. A stinging pain shot through her hand, jerking her body into full awareness.

"Ow..." her gasp was ragged and low. A bright trail of blood ran quickly down her palm from a fresh cut on her finger - a cut she didn't remember having. Her mind began putting the pieces back together. Something soft had covered her face, taking away her breath...a heavy arm tight across her body...the dull sound of her briefcase hitting the floor.

As Alexis watched the blood begin to form tiny dots on the concrete floor beside her face, her realization made her hand start to shake.

"Thomas, I think our guest could use a glass of water."

Alexis's eyes drifted unsteadily upward to see the form of Sorel crouching over her. He offered her his hand, the usual condescending smirk decorating his face.

"Let me help you up."

She squinted at him through still groggy lids. "No, thank you. I can get up on my own."

Then, a tactical decision. She turned her red-streaked palm upward and added, "I wouldn't want you to get blood on your hands.