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"Ms. Lounds?"
The voice is faint, like Freddie is hearing it through a wall. When she attempts to open her eyes, they remain firmly closed. She tries again a moment later and, this time, after exerting a titanic effort, she manages to crack them open.
Wherever she is, there's not even a sliver of light piercing through the darkness.
Her eyes close again, heavy with exhaustion. She refuses to succumb to the urge to pass out, not until she's able to discern something about her current environment.
The air smells of soil, and the ground underneath her back is unpleasantly damp. If she concentrates, she can hear classical music in the distance, and there's a dull throb coming from the end of her left arm.
"Ms. Lounds?"
The voice is clearer this time, and it sounds like it's coming from above her.
"Who are you?" she asks, willing her hands to move so that she can survey the ground around her, try and find a weapon of some kind.
The fingers of her right hand twitch slightly.
Her left hand doesn't respond at all.
"Do you know where you are?" This time, Freddie can tell that the voice belongs to a woman, but it's not one that's familiar to her.
"No," she answers, swallowing through a nauseating wave of panic. When she combs through her usually reliable memory for something to explain her current state of being, she's met with blanks. "And I can't remember how I got here."
"Good."