Her lemonade had been drugged. That had to be it. How else could she have fallen asleep in the cafe? Woozily she took in her surroundings, a haze before her eyes from the after effects of the drug. Red candles. A skull. Her clothes were gone, replaced with a pure white satin garment that didn't quite cover her. She realized her hands and feet were tied. She was bound on a table. No, not a table. An altar! What dire fate do her captors have planned for our innocent virgin?
Somehow she drifted off to sleep, lulled by some heady incense from an unseen source.
She awoke to chanting, her protective robe gone, bound in a much ruder position. Had they molested her whilse she slept?
She had to break free! But she was tied very tightly, her elbows touching behind her back, and the knots were out of reach. Her captors obviously knew their stuff. A chill ran down her spine as she realised that she was probably not the first innocent they had had strapped down on the scarlet altar cloth. And that a blood red altar cloth was probably blood red for a reason.