The woman opens her eyes in a daze. She slowly takes in the dimly lit environment. At first she does not panic, but she does when she realises her hands and body are constricted, held to the cold surface she lies on by multiple layers of plastic wrap.
“Oh, you’re awake,” says the voice of a man, sitting patiently in the shadows.
“Who are you?!” The woman screams.
The man gets up from his seat with such finesse, he has clamped his hand over her mouth before she realised it; you can see the shock in her eyes.
He pulls on the light-shade to illuminate the photos of a little boy on the walls.
“Do you recognise him?”
The woman nods under his grip.
“You’re his teacher, you are always there. I know why you did what you did, but that’s made me quite angry.”
She tries to talk, warm breath condensing on his hand.
“If you scream, that’s you now, you understand?”
She nods again and slowly he removes his grip.
“I didn’t take him, I saw a man escort him off the school premises, I told the police, I promise, I promise,” the woman says with such terror the man smiles.
“I know,” he says leaning in, removing his surgical mask, “You are getting in my way.”