Peril in the hotel room
Don't let strangers into the room. It is a basic rule that every girl should follow if she is alone in a hotel room. Today I did not follow my own advice and now I am firmly tied up and gagged in my hotel room while a thief rummages through my luggage looking for valuables. What will happen next?
"Come in," I said with a sleepy smile, my voice a little too trusting for the late hour. I just wearing my comfy black pajama with shorts and white stockings that I didn't take off because I was very tired. I had been dozing off in bed, the TV's blue light flickering across my room, casting shadows on the walls. The knock on the door was faint, almost polite. The man outside claimed to be from room service, and I had been waiting for a midnight snack I had ordered. Or so I thought.
In the doorway, he stood for a moment, a silhouette framed by the dimly lit hallway. He was wearing the hotel's standard issue uniform, which I couldn't make out clearly from the bed. His voice was a comforting murmur, the kind you'd expect from a well-trained hotel employee. "Your snack, ma'am," he offered, holding up a tray she couldn't see.
But something felt off. The way he didn't step fully into the room, his eyes scanning the space with an intensity that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. And the tray... it was empty. The sleepy fog lifted from my brain, a cold realization dawning.
With a swift movement, I swung my legs out of bed, reaching for the phone to call for help. But it was too late. He was on me, his hand clamped over my mouth before I could scream. He was stronger than I expected, and I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled against his grip. He smelled faintly of cigarettes and sweat, his breath hot against her cheek.
The struggle was short-lived. He had come prepared. Ropes and a roll of duct tape appeared from his pocket, and in moments, I was bound hand and foot, the sticky tape sealing my mouth shut. Panic set in, my heart racing as he dragged me off the bed and onto the cold, hard floor. He was surprisingly gentle, considering the circumstances, but it didn't lessen the fear coursing through my body. I watched in horror as he rifled through my luggage, tossing clothes aside like they were mere trash.
He was meticulous, checking every pocket and pouch. His eyes lit up when he found my jewelry box, and I felt a pang of loss as he greedily stuffed the contents into his own pocket. The sound of his zipper was like a death knell to my vacation funds.
When he was satisfied with all my valuables, he turned his attention back to me. He check my ropes "Tight enough?" I managed to mumble around the gag, the sound muffled but clear enough to convey my desperation. His eyes narrowed, and he nodded, as if in silent answer to a question only he could hear. Then, without a word, he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
Alone and helpless, I tested the knots and the tape, but they held firm. My breaths grew ragged, and I felt a tear slide down my cheek, soaking into the fabric of the gag. I lay there, my heart pounding in my chest, listening to the muffled sounds of the hotel beyond my door. The silence was punctuated only by the occasional creak of the floorboards and the distant hum of the elevator.
In the doorway, he stood for a moment, a silhouette framed by the dimly lit hallway. He was wearing the hotel's standard issue uniform, which I couldn't make out clearly from the bed. His voice was a comforting murmur, the kind you'd expect from a well-trained hotel employee. "Your snack, ma'am," he offered, holding up a tray she couldn't see.
But something felt off. The way he didn't step fully into the room, his eyes scanning the space with an intensity that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. And the tray... it was empty. The sleepy fog lifted from my brain, a cold realization dawning.
With a swift movement, I swung my legs out of bed, reaching for the phone to call for help. But it was too late. He was on me, his hand clamped over my mouth before I could scream. He was stronger than I expected, and I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled against his grip. He smelled faintly of cigarettes and sweat, his breath hot against her cheek.
The struggle was short-lived. He had come prepared. Ropes and a roll of duct tape appeared from his pocket, and in moments, I was bound hand and foot, the sticky tape sealing my mouth shut. Panic set in, my heart racing as he dragged me off the bed and onto the cold, hard floor. He was surprisingly gentle, considering the circumstances, but it didn't lessen the fear coursing through my body. I watched in horror as he rifled through my luggage, tossing clothes aside like they were mere trash.
He was meticulous, checking every pocket and pouch. His eyes lit up when he found my jewelry box, and I felt a pang of loss as he greedily stuffed the contents into his own pocket. The sound of his zipper was like a death knell to my vacation funds.
When he was satisfied with all my valuables, he turned his attention back to me. He check my ropes "Tight enough?" I managed to mumble around the gag, the sound muffled but clear enough to convey my desperation. His eyes narrowed, and he nodded, as if in silent answer to a question only he could hear. Then, without a word, he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
Alone and helpless, I tested the knots and the tape, but they held firm. My breaths grew ragged, and I felt a tear slide down my cheek, soaking into the fabric of the gag. I lay there, my heart pounding in my chest, listening to the muffled sounds of the hotel beyond my door. The silence was punctuated only by the occasional creak of the floorboards and the distant hum of the elevator.
