a lone torch is what wakes Wednesday up, combined with whistling winds on her bare skin.

instead of her comfortable bed and, likely, snoring roommate, she’s in a forest. her attire is bare, only cloth draped around her private areas. because kidnapping is fine, but god forbid someone slip a nipple.

her hands and feet won’t move, and she’s noticeably more vertical than she’d sleep. and that’s when she clocks - she’s tied to a cross.

not the weirdest way she’s woken up.

“crucifixion…where’s the nails?”