Her head ached, and the first thing Cynthia was really aware of was the heaviness of her limbs. An annoying and sharp sound was making her head ache all the more and she wished she could just make it stop. She needed quiet. Slowly the brunette could feel her eye lids peeling apart, but the sight before her was too harsh, too bright. Quickly she closed her eyes again and tried to remember what was happening. 

She had been leaving a ‘clients’ house, a man had approached her on the street and Cynthia had turned away, not wanting to interact with another human. Something had pinched her neck and… And then what? She couldn’t recall, which indicated something bad had happened. People didn’t just faint for no reason.  Had one of her clients decided they wanted her all to themselves? That seemed unlikely… Well…Not entirely but it seemed unlikely they’d drug her and drag her off to…

Where was she? Trying to open her eyes again she still found the sight garish and unsettling, but looking around Cynthia at least knew she was not in any of her client’s homes. It was too bright here, and the music blaring too loud. A woman with pink hair pounced before Cynthia and the thought ‘she is most definitely not my client’ came to her before a speech was given. All about how important they could be, how their trials and tribulations had been inflicted by this ‘visionary’. And while Cynthia’s arms and legs were not functioning as they normally would (she attributed this to the drugging) she had the ability to frown and look around. She was sitting in a plush chair, others in similar states of confusion and recovery strewn about. The brunette ignored the water hovering before her, eyeing the stone levitating. While it was something she had never seen before the whore could not forget the under lying message. 

She had been abducted, drugged, and if the pink haired woman was right, this man…her ‘father’ was also the reason why Cynthia had never gotten her powers like the rest of her peers. Why she had needed to master the craft of sly smiles and fluttering lashes, of tight fitting clothes and seductive looks. Why she had never been taken seriously in her life, not for a single moment, why her brain and her work never mattered and why it was easier and more profitable for Cynthia to make money ‘playing nice’ than using her education. 

Anger and hatred boiled under Cynthia’s skin, her dark eyes narrowing in suspicion and dislike. The pink haired ridiculous woman said they could leave, but Cynthia found that hard to believe. If they were ‘free’ then they wouldn’t have been taken so unwillingly in the first place. This woman and her father had stolen Cynthia’s childhood and her future all at once. 

It was with surprise that she heard the blonde man agree to playing along. Did he not understand what was happening? He was a hostage, a victim, not a friend, not a guest. Guests were not drugged before entering someone’s home. But Cynthia could see the glint of hope in his face. His life had been less than… Less than everyone else’s. Cynthia knew that look because she had it too. Less attention, less appreciation, less consideration, less status, less money…Less. But how could he just take this pink bitch’s word and move on? How was he not feeling hate and disgust and even fear? 

Cynthia’s mind whirled to come up with an answer. He could be simply slow minded… Overly trusting… Perhaps simple? He could be playing nice until the opportunity to escape presented itself. That would make sense… Even though Cynthia was angry she could not bely the floating rocks before them. The pink woman…What had she said her stupid name was again? A flower? Daisy? …Gardenia. That was it. 

Anyway, Gardenia could easily crush them should she wish.  Yes. The man must be pretending to agree and finding it all exciting and not deplorable so that he could find a way out without becoming minced meat. 

Or he was dull minded. But Cynthia was not and so she held back the retorts she wanted to make.  She wanted to point out that if they were friends and guests then they should have been treated that way, not kidnapped and drugged and who knew what else was done to them. She wanted to scream at the pink haired harpy that if she was telling the truth then Gardenia and her father had condemned five innocent unknowing children to a lifetime of disappointment and ridicule. Had taken Cynthia’s bright future and set her instead on the path that was long, twisted and dark.  That she had turned to means that anyone would sneer at, and anyone would feel their self-worth sinking by the day. What had these other victims succumb to in their lives? No one staring up at Gardenia looked proud, overly cared for, rich… None looked like their lives had been easy and pleasant as they should have been.  

But Cynthia bit her tongue. She needed escape and she’d wait for it. She’d bide her time. She’d lived through worse, this was just another hurtle in her already difficult life.