The Brainwashed Bride
Daniel snapped awake as suddenly as if someone had doused him in cold water. He looked around the darkened room, wondering where he was, only gradually realizing he was both sitting down and tied to a chair. Panic coursed through him; he began shaking the chair, struggling to get free, arching his neck painfully for some light, any light. Finally, he made out the shape of a thick curtain along one wall, and through it, a sliver of daylight. Dimly he could see arches, people milling back and forth, the sight of preparations.
They're getting ready for the wedding, he realized. My wedding. It's my wedding day!
Why was he tied to a chair? The last thing he remembered was last night's bachelor party, his friends feeding him drinks and a stripper doing her best to grid his lap into powder. Nolan would've gotten me home safe, he thought. His best friend and best man had been the night's designated driver, he wouldn't have let him go far. Some kind of drug, maybe? Where was everyone, who had tied him to a fucking chair?
He knew that somewhere in the house, Emily was putting on her makeup and gown, getting ready for the wedding. The thought of his gorgeous wife somewhere oblivious without him caused him physical pain. He struggled anew against his bonds and tried to figure out what time it was. The wedding has to be soon, he thought. Is it in an hour, or a few minutes? Someone has to come! With an effort, he slowed his breathing and tried to relax. The mansion wasn't that big - someone had to walk by sooner or later.