Her mother was a product of the same mold: brunette, bland but pleasant face, adequate chest, wide hips. Having her there in that position gave me an ...dea. I reached into her mind then, not to snoop *(who cares about these people, really?)*, but to leave instructions.The girl’s mother was to be locked in place, unable to move, unable to speak. She could watch her daughter, and only her daughter. Her right hand--she wore her watch on the left, so she’s right handed--was free to touch her. So, at least from what she could see she looked as she remembered and didn't seem to have any memory problems except for the knowledge of how she got here.There was most likely no one that would come looking for her, she had no family and didn't have many friends at least none that cared very much. She wasn't attached to where she lived before much anyway so she couldn't really be upset at her loss, she didn't like to dwell on the past either not that she liked where she had been in her life. More

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