You walked home from school like you usually do. It was winter, and the sun was starting to set. Your boots crunched over the snow, and turned down a familiar street that you have used many times. You've never had any reason to fear this street, you knew it like the back of your hand. But for some reason, you felt nervous, even though you had no reason to feel nervous.

You hear a crunch behind you, but turn around and see nothing. You continue walking, picking up your a pace slightly, now eager to get home. You walked a few more steps and the crunching started again you kept walking for a few more steps, and the crunching persisted. You froze. The crunching stopped. Just as you were about to turn around, you were grabbed. A cloth was held over your mouth and nose.

You gasped in shock, breathing the drugs that were on the cloth. Your vision blurred, and you started seeing black spots at the edges of your vision. You lost your balance, but you were thrown over your attacker's shoulder before you could fall over. A few moments later the spots totally took over you vision, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you were no longer aware of anything.

~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up to a throbbing headache. You tried to move your arms, but to no avail. You looked down and realized that you were sitting in a chair, your hands were tied to the arms, and your ankles were tied to the legs of the chair. You tried in vain to move your arms and legs, but you grimaced when the rope dug into your skin.

The room had a lamp, and the light coming from it was just enough to see her surroundings. To your right was a wooden table, adorned with leather straps that you thought must serve as restraints. The floor and walls were concrete. You gaged at the smell of old vomit and blood.

You heard a door open behind and close behind you, then heard the distinct sound of footsteps. You tried to turn around to look at you captor, but a black bag was put on your head and you were blinded. You felt a presence next to your ear.

"Aspen, you are mine." a voice whispered.

"My name isn't Aspen." you informed the voice.

"Your name is Aspen!" the voice roared, and you doubled over in pain as you received a punch to the stomach.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes fluttered open. You don't know how long you've been there, but out of all your fingers and toes, you only have one finger left. Your clothes were soaked in your own blood, and the stumps where some of your fingers had been had been oozing a yellow pus for a while now. You didn't know much about medical diagnostics, but you knew enough to know that the wounds were infected.

Your head throbbed painfully, and you thought that you might have a concussion. Your frail mind had given up all hope of being rescued, so instead you focused your thoughts on one thing. You are not Aspen. Your name is Chloe.