This one is on hold currently! Hopefully it will launch sometime before 2030!
Fear rakes my body when I wake in the strange room; I cannot remember how I got here. The room is small and dark, lit by a single overhead light bulb hanging from the low ceiling. The floor is concrete, but overall, this room has the feel of a dungeon. The bed is a simple, metal frame, with a thin mattress and thin but clean quilt. Pain encompasses my entire body. In the dim light, I don’t appear to have any bruises or wounds. Perhaps I have the flu. I fan myself in an effort to cool, down, but it doesn’t help. Wiping my sweat from my brow I look around the room again. On a small metal table beside the bed, a bottle of water rests. The lid, thankfully, is still sealed. Cracking the seal, I take a big swig before just gulping down the whole bottle.
Leaning against the wall behind the bed, my knees pulled to my chest I grit my teeth against the pain that is all consuming. Fear freezes my body as movement registers int he corridor outside the room. The echo of footsteps indicates the person is still far away. Searching frantically for a weapon I find nothing. As the steps get nearer, I shrink back into the corner of the bed tight to the wall. Shivers race along my skin as the adrenaline courses through my body in anticipation.
“You,” I screech accusatorily when the door opens. “Where is he? Does he know what you’ve done?”
“Yes, Bailey, he brought you here. He had some business to take care of, then he’ll be back,” he answers without feeling.
“What business?” I ask angrily.
“Something to help keep you safe,” he responds, still showing no compassion.
“Keep me safe,” I shout, “that’s rich. What have you done to me? I am in so much pain,” I whimper.
“We’re here to help you; you’re becoming what you were always meant to be,” he says cryptically.
“I don’t understand,” I say, calming a little; I can hear the honesty in his voice.
“He’ll explain everything when he gets back. Right now, rest. The next few days are going to be tough,” he says. “I’ll have some food and more water brought down for you.”
“Please, please, let me leave here. Let me go back to my apartment,” I beg.
“The stillness of this room with help with your hypersensitivity as you get through the next few days. Trust me, this is the best place for you.” He says not harshly, but without feeling. After finishing this statement, he leaves, leaving me with no more information than I had a few minutes ago. I race to the door but it’s locked, I’m stuck.
Virginia Tomlinson - Author 