You're totally enclosed, there's a lid on the jar, and there's no way you'd be able to escape. You breathe frantically and worry as you take in the room. It must be Charlotte's since there's workout gear dotted around the place. "Shit," you exclaim and realise that she must have done this to you. Your mind races with all of the possible things that she's likely planning to do to you — and you can't do anything about it.
You sit there for about thirty minutes, with your anxiety only becoming increasingly overbearing, and then the bedroom door swings open.
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