I open my eyes, my surroundings are blurry and indistinguishable as I blink the forced sleep from my eyes. The room comes into view, it’s a small cement chamber with one window and one door, a stereotypical kidnapping room.

These guys really need a new bit, the “cement chamber” is getting old, and he seriously tied me to a wooden chair? I thought these people would start to get some tips to keep people in there hold.

The zip ties he zipped around my wrists started to bite into my already scarred wrists. I don’t cut myself don’t get it confused I’ve just been zip tied far too many times in my lifetime.

I’m 23, my name is Lacy, and I get kidnapped… a lot. It’s kind of my job. I was recruited 6 years ago to be a part of a special unit of the FBI dedicated to catch killers and kidnappers and anyone else committing crimes against people. I was hired to go into situations where I’m trying to be kidnapped, and I’m really good at it.

I sigh and hop jumped as best and hard as I could onto the floor, it took a few tries but eventually the chair splintered.

“Oh great I hate this part,” I said as I shoved my wrists apart and broke the zip tie. “FFFIDDLESTICKS IT NEVER HURTS LESS” I said as I shook my hands. I undid my leg bindings and opened the door which was, stupidly, unlocked. The air was stale and the room looked to be an empty basement.

“Yay more stereotypes,” I said as my kidnapper walked down the stairs.

“How did you get out?!” He yells at me. I roll my eyes.

“It’s my job.” He charges at me and I slam his head against the wall, he crumpled to the floor. I pull his phone out of his pocket and dial my bosses number.

“Yeah we have another one.”