So it was the taste of tape that calmed Oliv’s mind, despite whatever caffeine buzz she was riding. There were a limited number of things she could know at that moment, but Oliv listed them off in her mind nevertheless. She had been forced off the road by a black car, a big one. This had happened in a residential neighborhood, a sleepy one, so even if no one had seen the crash, her crumpled car would not go unnoticed. Oliv was in a single-room apartment with three middle-aged people, none of whom had any fashion sense. There was an open window to her right, but all she could see was sky, so whatever apartment she was in, it wasn’t on the ground floor. She had been kidnapped and was handcuffed, but it didn’t appear her captors wanted to harm her. Not yet, at least. The last thing on Oliv’s list, strangely, was that in the kitchenette on her left there were a pile of empty Jell-O boxes, all different flavors, and she could smell the distinct odor of Jell-O shots with rum made and chilling in the refrigerator.
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