She awakes, bleary eyed, her head pounding. She rolls onto her side to attempt to get out of bed, but finds she cannot. Her hands are handcuffed to the bed post.
“What the fuck?” she screams. She thought she was alone in her house.
The bedroom door creaks open and there stands a man. He’s impossibly tall and extremely thin. She can’t see his face because of an over-sized hat that sits atop his head. He takes one giant step forward into the room.
“Mornin’.” He has a southern drawl. She searches her brain for any signs of someone that she might know that bears a resemblance to this man. No one. Her memory file is alarmingly blank.
“I suppose you’re wonderin’ what’s goin’ on here?” Silence. A rhetorical question, she assumes.
“Let’s just say that I’m unbelievably hungry.” She begins to squirm as the hand behind his back reveals that it is holding a knife. An excessively large one, gleaming.
“Bastard!” she spits.
“Ouch. That hurt my feelings just a little. I’m just tryin’ to stay alive.”