My name is Demitior, I am fifteen years old, and the fact that I am tied to a tree, blindfolded, is merely the latest update in my treacherously stupid life. 

I pulled against the tight, scratchy rope that bound around my wrists, feeling it dig and claw into my skin. I cringe, but I keep struggling and soon, one hand is free. I take off my blindfold and gawk at the amount of blood pouring out of my wrist. The pain kicks in, and I scream bloody murder. My other hand isn't as bad, but it's still bleeding like a sacrificial umpop*. I try to ignore it, and take off my shirt to wrap around my wrists. The pain is unbearable, but as I breathe slowly, it eases up. After ten minutes, I uncover my hands and stare at the gashes. Blood still trickles from them, but I ignore it and start searching for a way out of the woods. 

I look for footprints or tire marks, but it hadn't rained in weeks and the ground was firm. I try to find where the sun is, but the canopy of trees only allow a small amount of light to pass through. I'm lost, I realized, and I have no idea how I'm going to find my way home.