My head was hurt when I regained my consciousness. I tried to recollect whatever occurred last night like it was a bad dream. As I forced my lids to open and found myself in someone else's bedroom, my cognitive process restarted. From its simplicity, colour combination of dull grey and white, unruly orientation of personal items lying around with no décor, I sensed that this was a man's bedroom.

Then, I heard heavy breathing behind me roused me to frantic. What exactly happened last night? I braved myself to turn around and saw Nick lying next to me, eyes own at his iPhone. I jumped out of the bed instantly, alerting my nerve system to awake but my legs were still sleeping sending me staggering out of balance.

"Good morning," Nick turned towards me, smiling. He folded his arms upwards, putting his hands at the back of his head. "Had a good sleep last night?"

My eyes darted around the room before looking down at myself. My head sent another panic reaction when I saw myself in a man's shirt and gym shorts.

"Okay, Zahida. You need to calm down," Nick sensed me began to freak out.

"Where am I? Why am I here? How did I end up here? Where are my clothes?!" I squeaked.

"You passed out last night," Nick replied. "Those were my old clothes which I haven't worn for years. Yours are in the washer."

"What happened last night? Am I still a virgin?" I asked again in my high-pitched voice.

"You are?" he looked at me surprise.

"Shut up!" I hissed, taking a few steps back, covering my hands around my vanity area as though they were exposed.

"Okay, seriously, you need to breathe or else you'll collapse again."

"Did you touch me last night?" I asked out of the blue.

"Well technically, yeah but–"

I gasped in horror and my eyes widened. "You asshole! You pervert!" I took a cushion on the floor and threw at him.

"It was not like that! I changed your clothes but that was it!" he fended off with his right arm.

As the whacking grew intense, Nick got out of the bed with an attempt to halt my attack, but I was distracted by his shaft underneath his Under Armour sweatpants bolted upright towards me. I yelped harder while he looked down at his stiff self.

"I have no control over that, I'm sorry," he surrendered both his hands up in the air. You threw up all over your shirt last night. I don't want your last night's dinner smudging on my bed sheets."

"Am I in your bedroom?" I questioned, taking another cushion skipped towards the door.

"It was, yeah," he replied frankly.

I twisted the doorknob to exit but it won't budge. "Did you lock me in?"

"The door's a bit jammed, I'll open that," Nick got up, but I aimed the cushion at him as my weapon of choice. He responded to my defence with a stern look. "Do you want to get out or not?"

"Tell me how, I'll do it myself," I demanded, still pointing the cushion at him as though I was holding a gun.

"Zahida, stop panicking and let me open the bloody door," his calm voice turned agitated.

"No! You deliberately locked me in so that you can rape me," I accused.

"If you don't calm down, the missile in my pants will launch an attack on you," he gritted his teeth.

"I want to get out!" I yelled.

"Zahida, sit!" he roared crossly at me, outrun my voice. "This is a three-storey building and we're at the attic. I'm capable of throwing you out the window if I have to!"

My franticness retreated as I calmed myself down on his foam mattress bed as per ordered. I rebooted my senses and my consciousness to sanity while he turned away from me and fixed his manhood in the pants before worked his ways with the door to open. He gestured me towards the opened door, but I didn't budge.

"What happened last night?" I asked him.

"You don't remember?"

"I don't know. Was I drinking?" I casted a weary stare at him.

"No, you weren't," Nick approached towards me, concerned. "You went unconscious right after Cane smash... John Doe's face."

Then, I remembered. It was all coming back to me, horrendous images of Cane torturing their prey, crucified to a wall of an abandoned building flashed in my mind.

I wasn't supposed to be there, but I was still curious. My network somehow expanded as my career as Nick's PA progressed. So, when I found out about Nick's arrangement through my network, I decide to track him. But I got caught and he took me to the scene, forced me to witness his victim being tortured mercilessly.

Cane and Mark (G-Wagon guy) took turns mutilated John Doe's body and face with a steel bar, a sledgehammer, a hatchet all in random order. Seeing his skull cracked, blood splatter was horrific beyond words to describe it.

And John Doe's screaming turned into shrills of agony, so shocking and disturbing that I lost account of the actual chronology of the events. The head smashing, him screaming, me puking, me crawling on the floor before passing out were distorted in my memory. But I remembered throwing up after seeing too much blood, then I remembered crawling and puking until there was nothing left for me to projectile.

As those gory images and sounds reappeared at the back of my mind, I felt lethargic, my heart raced to an abnormal beat, blood drained from my face, my vision blurred. Combination of grief, anger, terror, panic and stress mixed inside my guts causing an emotional explosion that I burst out crying.

I reached out for Nick's arms, wailing hysterically like a tantrum child as he embraced me. He tried to calm me down, but my wailing grew louder under him, pressing my wet face against his chest, grasping my arms firmer around him.

I wasn't steady enough to leave this room. I needed Nick.