Let there be light

You slide your hand up the wall until you find the light switch, then snap it on as you burst into the room. A petite figure dressed entirely in black squeaks and rises quickly in alarm. They're wearing black balaclava that covers their head and face except for the eyes so you can't tell who it is, but from the relatively flat chest it certainly isn't Tamara.

Panicked, the figure darts for the door, trying to rush by you, but you easily grab them with one arm and fling them to the bed, squealing with terror. They scramble back on the bed away from you, the eyes fixed on the knife in your hand as you advance on them. They slip off the far side of the bed and dash to the window, scrabbling to open it, whimpering frantically.

They don't have a chance. You wrap one arm around their neck and show them the blade in your other hand as they struggle desperately.

"Keep still or I'll cut your fucking throat," you growl as you pull them back from the window and push them face down on the bed, putting a knee in their back to hold them.

"Let's see who you are, you thieving bitch!" You grab the balaclava and pull it off, exposing a mane of red hair and a pretty face made desperate with fear. She flails beneath you, not giving up her attempts to escape until you press the point of the knife against her neck just below the ear.

"I said be still!" you snarl. She gives a despairing squeak and slumps, starting to sob with terror, her eyes wide and full of tears.

"Who the fuck are you?" you bark, but her only answer is more sobbing, and she buries her face in the bed as though to hide from you. You look her over, examining your catch. She's wearing a long sleeved black t-shirt and tight black leggings, with canvas sneakers on her feet. You grab a handful of her hair and turn her head to look at her again, but still don't recognise her. Her face is red and crumpled from her terror, and when you let her hair go she buries her face in the bed again.

Glancing around the room you see a small backpack on the floor beside your dresser. You don't own one so it must be hers. You slide off the bed and drag her with you, pushing her onto the floor beside the back pack and pushing one of her arms behind her back and kneeling on it as she sobs and gasps. You unzip the pack and dump the contents on the floor. You see a watch that belongs to you and a small wallet that does not, along with a few tools and a cell phone.

Picking up the wallet you flip it open as your captive cries and squirms. You find a student card for Amber McLean from the town high school, the picture matching the girl on floor. According to the card she's in grade 12 and she turned 18 two weeks ago. You smile coldly as you look down at your prisoner and consider what to do with her.