I open my eyes. I’m in a warehouse maybe, or a huge storeroom of some kind. Boxes everywhere I look and packing material in huge piles. I’m in the middle of the room. My arms and legs are so heavy, my back stiff. This is all very confusing as you might imagine because the last thing that comes to mind is me walking to school, the expensive private one three blocks down at the corner of Main and Lincoln. I hate the uniforms this time of year because my wool jumper gets so itchy.

So, it turns out that the reason my back feels so stiff and my arms and legs so heavy is because I’m tied to a basic office chair with certified, pre-tested nylon rappelling rope. It’s a bit fuzzy, but I guess I kind of remember now. A guy, kind of big, jumped me from behind and put something over my mouth. It’s really hazy but more guys came and got me and put me in the back of…something. Well, that means I’m kidnapped and my wealthy father is expected to pay a ransom. People like this piss me off.

First thing’s first. Whoever tied these knots would make a Boy Scout cry. I’m out in a few seconds. Next is to get out of here and contact someone before my dad pays these losers. Shouldn’t be too hard for a black belt in three martial arts who has skipped two grades. The sharp pain that suddenly shoots into the back of my head forces me to reassess the situation.

The doctor comes in. Examines the back of my head. Concussion with mild head trauma. Internal bleeding is negative, but the headache will be around for a while. Take it easy for a week or so, he says. Your vision might be a bit blurry now, but it will be fine tomorrow.

It’s the guy who grabbed me originally, holding a bloody baseball bat. A look of shock is on his face which tells me he’s surprised I’m still conscious after he whacked me. Probably thought I’d go down easy being a girl and all and didn’t put nearly enough force into it. It hurts like hell though. Two more guys come in. One is holding a cell phone, finishing a conversation which involves delivering money to a specific location. The other one is stout with big teeth and reminds me of a rat. They’re all staring right at me. Here we go.

I kick the big guy in the stomach, winding him, and immediately follow it up with a kick to the phone guy’s wrist, knocking his phone up into the air. I jump and kick off the rat’s head and catch the phone in midair, then start running to buy some time. Two seconds later and 911 is dialed. I toss the phone into a pile of packing material. Now it’s just a time game. The guys are upset because they know I’ve got them and I think they’re prepared to kill me.

The rat charges me and takes a fist in the jaw. He’s really disoriented now. The phone guy comes at me next, circling, and trying to grab me. I defend myself well, but I can’t watch my back and I know it. The big guy is getting behind me so I try to get out from in between them. Then the phone guy picks up a heavy box and chucks it at me. The brief amount of time it takes for me to dodge it gives the big guy enough time to plant a punch right in my side.

The doctor comes in. Examines my rib cage. Uses the stethoscope to check breathing. Broken ribs, he says, but no internal injuries luckily. You’re going to be in pain for a while though. No athletic activity and you’ll need to avoid moving around too much or you might have some healing problems.

The big guy comes around for another punch, but I’m much too fast for him. Three hits later he’s on the floor clutching his throat desperately trying to breathe. That’s one down. The rat is still disoriented so I go on the offensive against the phone guy. He’s obviously got some training but we don’t dance for too long. He is too predictable and I manage to school him pretty well, getting some quality head and body hits in, ultimately knocking him out. The big guy’s choking sounds and the phone guy wheezing unconscious are the only sounds. Until the rat, still dizzy, stabs me in the back of my leg. I scream.

The doctor comes in. Examines my stab wound in the lower portion of my thigh. You’re lucky he was dizzy, he says, or the guy might have had the presence of mind to stab you somewhere more vital. The blade twisted so this won’t close up with out considerable stitching and bandaging. You’ll need a crutch for a while, for the sake of the muscle healing and for the pain.

The rat bastard goes down very quickly, believe me. I rip part of my jumper and use it to tie off the wound. At least I’m home free now. Cops should be here soon, hopefully with and ambulance. I’m a bit light-headed from blood loss but I manage to hobble to a door.

Another door, on the opposite side of the room, opens. A man, a fourth man is standing there with a 9mm. He raises the gun and fires.

The doctor comes in. Examines my chest. This is very serious, he says. Very serious. The bullet has missed your heart by a millimeter, but it’s done a number on your lung. We’ll have to do surgery, stat. I’m going to place this mask over your face and I need you to breathe normally, normally…

I’m pretty sure I heard another gunshot and I know I saw the fourth man fall. Then a cop standing over me telling me I was going to be fine over and over again. The Medics were there too, moving equipment around and doing something with my arm. A stretcher, someone telling me I was going to survive, that the wound wasn’t fatal, a mask over my face and someone telling me to breathe normally. I close my eyes.