I am just writing fan-fiction as something fun to do in my spare time. I am making no profit out of this.

Sorry, this is me again. I am still writing my previous story so don't worry. I just have gotten ideas come to me from left, right, and center, and such a wonderfully warm reception over my other story made me feel like letting more story ideas come together.

I don't know if anyone will like the idea of this one, but its a kidnap story. Yes, Christian kidnaps Ana after seeing her in a club. The rest will eventually be revealed.

I was trying to find a story like this similar, but as far as I could see, I couldn't find any. So this is my attempt :) There will be no rape or anything horrible like that. This will essentially be a HEA, but its a long way to go to reach there. The concept alone of kidnap may be very disturbing, and Christian may be quite creepy. I have just always particularly loved horror films and ones featuring kidnap, so this will be my attempt.

Cat & Mouse

When I wake up, I notice everything is dramatically wrong about my surroundings. I'm not in my bed; The one that I sleep in where I live with my best friend Kate Kavanagh as roommates. The sheets I'm cocooned in feel luxurious, like Egyptian cotton, not like my normal flannelette ones. Sitting up, I study my surroundings with shallow breaths.

The entire room isn't familiar at all; It's larger, spacious. It reminds me almost of a spare room inside someone's house, or a hotel room at the very least. It's modern with stainless steel dome lamps with a white, fluffy carpet square covering half of the floorboards. There are two white bedside drawers on each side of the bed, and that's it. No other important pieces of furniture but the bed. A plastic tray on one bedside table to the left of me near a dome lamp with what looks like a glass of orange juice and a jug of chilled water. Two empty glasses. No knives or cutlery. No food for me. Just water and orange juice.

The curtains are wide open, letting the early morning light in, but there are what looks like thick iron bars behind the glass.

The ceiling and the entire room I'm in isn't in anyway similar to the one I have been sleeping in for the past three months ever since moving to Seattle with Kate.

So where the hell am I? What am I doing here?

My eyes dart around the room again as the fear settles in even deeper. I don't remember coming here. In fact, I don't remember much of all last night, except for heading out with Kate to a few different clubs, having celebratory drinks and tequila shots for finishing our finals, stuff most girls my age do, nothing really that out of the ordinary.

So why am I here, of all places? More importantly, if I don't remember getting here myself then... who put me here? Why?

Panicking isn't going to help though, I tell myself, trying to remain calm. There has to be a logical explanation as to why I'm here.

As I try to think back rationally on the events of last night, it sinks in just how uncomfortable I feel. I feel... different somehow. My nose feels particularly clogged up and my head is aching dully. It could just be the effects of suffering my first-ever hangover, but that doesn't make sense.

As I scan through my memory of what had happened last night, I come up blank, as far as what happened after we went to the second club.

I remember certain things: Drinking a few glasses of white wine at the apartment with Kate as pre-starter drinks while getting ready. Heading out to one club, drinking two shots, then changing our minds because it was too crowded and heading out to the next place.

Having a few cocktails, though I can't recall the precise number of how many we each had. Dancing together, doing fun, girly harmless things while tipsy and relaxed. Kate spotting a guy with longish, light brown hair who she thought was gorgeous.

These are all the things I remember from last night, yet not for the life of me can I remember how we left the club, or why I ended up here in this unknown place, in this unknown comfortable bed.

God, what had I done last night to get me here in this room?

Throwing the sheets off me, I glance down at what I am wearing, checking. It's still the party dress I chose to wear last night, so someone hadn't bothered to undress me at the very least. At least I hadn't been picked up by some desperate horny guy, and had sex with him here at his house in this bed. Or had I?

Sliding out of the bed, my bare feet hit cold floorboards and I shiver, moving towards the door quickly. If there is one thing I want to do, its find my wallet and my shoes, and get out of here as quickly as I possibly can, maybe even try to avoid the whole walk of shame thing while I do it. Grasping the doorknob, I turn it.

I feel my blood turn cold as ice as I try to twist the doorknob again, this time wrapping both hands around the brass knob at the same time. Using all the strength I have in both hands, I yank and pull, trying to get the door to come open, only to no avail. It just rattles and shakes loudly with all the effort I'm using. It won't open, I realize in terror. I'm locked in. Now why the hell would someone lock me into a room like this? What is going on here?

Using one of the breathing techniques I have learned over the past year to calm me down and reduce stress while seeing a counselor at my college, I put both hands on each knee, ducking my head low towards them, focusing on breathing deeply. In, out. In, out. Everything is going to be fine. You are going to get out of here in the next minute or so. Let's not overreact and make it worse by suffering one of your panic attacks right now, Ana.

Lifting my head out from my knees, I look around again, clenching my hands together tightly. Seeing what's up on the corner of the ceiling doesn't exactly ease my anxiety any. My breath catches in my throat, and I feel all the little hairs on the nape of my neck rise when I realize what must be happening outside that door, in another room of the house.

There is a camera on the ceiling, no doubt recording me while I move around the room, freaking out. It can only mean one thing:

Someone is watching me. But who and why?

"Who are you?" I bring myself to ask in a tremulous and loud voice at the camera, my eyes growing wet and stinging. My voice seems to echo around the room creepily. "What do you want from me? Why am I here like this and why did you bring me here?" I pause, breathing loudly.

I don't know why I am expecting for the camera to answer back, but what I do know, is that some sick pervert is watching my every movement.

When no answer or noise comes in response, anger burns within me. "Listen, why is the door locked? I want to leave, so why don't you get your fat ass off the chair you are no doubt sitting in now to watch me like some sicko that gets off on watching girls like this and actually come unlock it so I can get out of here already?"

I won't freak out, I tell myself, over and over, when still no response comes. I grit my teeth, staring up into the lens of the camera helplessly, wrapping my arms around myself, squeezing tight. I won't break down, I won't be defeated in this situation. Whoever this person is that is doing this to me in keeping me locked in this room, they had better let me out. And quickly.

WHAT DID YOU THINK? I don't know if its too weird or disturbing, but let me know if its something you would be interested in reading more of anyway. It will go up to an M rating likely, and I intend to make Ana have good survival instincts (i.e, what Ray taught her as a kid to defend herself). All will be revealed in due time of why he has kidnapped her and what it is that he wants from her, as well as Christian's identity to her. Thanks for reading :)