Well, when I say “it” and “she” hit me, I mean to say:

First, she hit me. A sharp, sudden, quick and painful punch in my face. (I distinctly remember the feeling of her skinny knuckles ramming against my skull – bone against bone. And although I don’t remember hearing it, I’m sure there must have been a loud CRACK! as our skeletons clacked together.)

And secondly…it hit me.

Not a sudden epiphany, or realisation, or idea, or something metaphorical like that. (God, I wish it had’ve been metaphorical – it would’ve been a lot less painful…)

No, when I say it hit me, I mean a massive goddamn 4×4 hit me dead on at 50 mph.

And suffice it to say:

IT. HURT…

…

…

…but only for a moment.

A moment later, I found myself pain-free, seated comfortably, and…

Tied up.

Shit, I thought.

But it wasn’t a thought, because the word echoed throughout the room.

Yet I hadn’t opened my mouth.

I couldn’t.

It was sealed shut.

And then I realised:

I was in the Anonymous Cinema…with the Girl…