Abduction: Awakening III
This contains non-con and is part 3 of the story. If you wish to read parts one and two, follow the links. I don’t know about other writers, but I re-read the previous installments often simply to ensure that details I may have overlooked don’t get forgotten.
I do like being told that I rock. I also like to know about errors, flaws, grammatical mistakes, flow or character problems that I may encounter. Do you find the change of perspective difficult to follow?
And no, I do not write professionally - at least, I do not write fiction.
It has a long while before it will be exhausted from my mind, enjoy the ride while it lasts.
*** *** *** *** *** ***
Day 24: Synopsis
Allwd freedom of room, comforts of bath. Seems over hysteria. Patient. Introspective. Eat’g well, no apples. (!) Plays hd & sk w/camras she can see. Has identif’d 9 of 17.
She has been without my contact since her first night here. I felt that distance, however illusional it may be, would be best to allow her to adjust to the changes demanded of her. My impatience is growing. I watch her on the monitor and my teeth grit at how casually she seems to have adjusted to her new routine. I want to see her clawing at the walls, but she barely even glances at anyone that enters the room to leave her food.
I find it amusing that she refuses to take the apple. Is there such symbolism in an apple? Obviously so, other fruit doesn’t go untouched, but oh that apple, that - she will not bring to her lips.
My mouth waters at the very thought of her eating an apple. I shift between two thought processes, one scientific, one visceral. I want to study her under this unpressured, but contained existence longer, but even my logic acknowledges that this wasn’t a wholly unselfish endeavor. I wanted to punish her for running.
There was a time I saw her as more than just an experiment, but that seems another lifetime away. We were here…now. My actions had triggered more action, required that steps be taken to see it done, see the dance played out.
I picked up the phone on the first ring, casually changing the monitor to a better angle as I watched her flip through music. I had only provided her music for entertainment, my choices were exact, thoughtful. ‘Yes?’
‘The artist says he can be here tomorrow, but he’s asking 4K to do the job you want.’
I scribbled the number on a notepad and nodded my head for some reason. ‘Fine. You’ve checked him out?’
Tony laughed on the other end of the phone. ‘Oh yea. I’ve got dirt for weeks. Lots to lose. Should I send him your way?’
I smiled, I liked people that had strings I could pluck. ‘At 8. That should give him plenty of time to work. Make certain the flight is ready for tomorrow, and send Lou up. I’ll need his help.’
I placed the pen on the table and smiled. Tonight’s entry would require an addendum.
*** *** *** *** ***
She heard the door opening, but didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Who else would it be? It almost felt like a hotel, with unremarkable people coming and going, silent and focused on their work. She had given up trying to talk to them, plead with them for her release. Everything seemed to go ignored, her tears, her threats - it didn’t matter to them obviously, that she was here against her will, held by some man she remembered, but only as a ghost from her memory. Different, somehow, but he still pulsed with energy.
One thing was certain, this was no hotel. The windows looked down at a lit valley that seemed miles and miles away, separated from her by distance, time, freedom and millions of sharp, sadistic rocks. She tried to remember if he had mentioned anything about having a home in the desert, but nothing was coming to her mind. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t do anything but doze in and out while listening to this music that, while varied, was surprisingly soothing.
She’d accepted that her food was drugged. It could be the only explanation for the sense of calm she had. She knew she was being watched, that somewhere cameras she hadn’t covered with drapes or clothing still monitored her somehow. She waited for someone to notice and remove them, but they never did. She was puzzled. Nothing had happened, no one had molested her, no one had even given so much as a reason. It was an odd, but not wholly intolerable prison. Still, a cage is a cage.
She lifted her hand to her temples, rubbing her forehead slowly before standing and stretching. Music from some band she hadn’t heard before.
She rubbed her palms down over her thighs and stood up, closing her eyes, her head falling back as the notes of music drifted in the air. She felt this wave of sadness bubble in her for a second and blinked back tears. Why was this happening? Why now?
The thought process trailed directly into anger as it always did and she whipped around to yell at the person that she heard earlier. The profanity died on her lips as she stared at him, her jailer. She had no doubt that standing before her was the person who held all of the cards, who made the choice to imprison her.
For all of her anger, her voice still quivered as she spoke, her eyes still welled with tears as she faced him, her fingers curled into her palms. ‘Why?’ She hiccupped slightly, and a tear rolled down one cheek before she angrily smeared it away with her fist. ‘Why did you do this to me?’
