With one last mug in my hand, I finally got down to business. First were the requisitions that we had procured at a local charity drive. I usually tackled these every day, but the past two had been otherwise occupied.
I got through the first page without a problem, relief flooding me that I was back on track. But by the end of the second page, my eyes were growing sore and my head was dipping forward.
No, this couldn’t be happening. I had just drunk an entire pot of coffee. There was no way I was falling asleep!
Maybe my eyes were just dry. Caffeine was a dehydrator, after all.
My heart pumping despite the insistent heaviness of my eyelids, I stumbled to the bathroom and opened my medicine cabinet. Not really seeing the labels, I fumbled around for my seasonal allergy eyedrops.
Once I found them, I hastily let several doses drop into each eye, blinking rapidly. The tears were a wonderful relief for all of thirty seconds, but by the time I reached my desk they were utterly tired again.
I was utterly tired again.
“What the hell is happening?” I asked, sinking into my chair.
I opened my computer browser to try to look persistent sleepiness up, but I suddenly couldn’t focus on the keyboard. I was tired. So… so tired.
Surely it wouldn’t be so bad to set my head down for just a moment, right?
No! I tried to fight it. Tried to remind myself that I had so much to do. But none of it worked, and I felt my eyes slide closed yet again.
*
The first thing I was aware of was a noise that didn’t belong in my bedroom. It was mechanical in nature, laying somewhere between the whirring of a motor and the hum of a laser. That didn’t quite make sense, and I found the incongruity pulling me towards consciousness.
My body was caught in a strange tug of war. I could feel that a large part of me wanted me to stay asleep, nestled in the safety of the darkness. But another part, one that was growing more and more vocal by the moment, was clamoring for me to awaken.
It sensed… danger. A certain sort of not belonging that couldn’t be ignored.
Groaning, I slowly opened my eyes, ready to see what exactly was making such a racket.
I wished I hadn’t.
Fear instantly shot through me, the last dredges of sleep fleeing from my mind. I wasn’t in my room, or even the strange room that had been featured in my dreams for the past two nights. No, I was in a cage, nearly pitch dark and only cold metal below me.
“Hello!” I half called, half shrieked. “Where am I? Is anyone there?”
There was no answer, but the mechanical whirring grew louder, as if some sort of machine was coming closer. I couldn’t see it, but then again, I couldn’t see much of anything in the almost absolute darkness.
Something above me made a sliding sound and I looked up just in time to see some sort of machine-like arm extend down. It consisted of several joints, tubing and wires between them to similar to human musculature. For a moment, I was almost was impressed by the incredibly sci-fi gadget. But then my eyes reached the end of the technological limb and I noticed the incredibly long needle and vial mounted there.
“What the hell!?!”
I lunched backwards only to slam into a solid metal wall, further proving that I was in some sort of tiny cage. I felt my heartbeat sky rocket as terror shook me. I had never been much for needles, but I was suddenly finding out that I liked automated needles entering my space in a tiny cage even less. It neared me, what little light coming through the little square it had lowered itself through reflecting off the sterilized metal.
So, I did what any sensible librarian would do.
I kicked the shit out of it.
I could tell that I wasn’t doing much damage -after all, I was just a barefoot woman in a blind panic. But it was enough to keep the needle away from me and that had to do for the moment.
For a few brief beats, I thought I might be able to hold it off forever, or at least until I woke, up, but then more squares opened in the ceiling above me and thin strips of metal lowered themselves.
I paid them no mind at first, my whole world narrowed down to just the needle threatening me. But then those strips jumped to life with no warning, lashing towards me and wrapping around my wrists and neck.
Suddenly I was pinned back against the wall, my wrists above my head, and my neck practically welded to the metal. I screamed, struggling against the bonds, but no amount of fighting budged them. Like some sort of horror movie, the needle came closer and closer and closer, until finally it touched my skin.
I went deathly still, everything in my body coming to a complete stop as it pierced me, going deep into my flesh. I couldn’t believe this was happening. No, this couldn’t be happening, and yet I was watching the shining instrument bore into me until vibrant, red liquid began to fill the vial at the end of it.
Oh God, that was my blood! What did it want with my blood!? What could it possibly want with my blood? Nothing good, I was sure.
But before I could come to any sort of logical conclusion, the needle retracted then disappeared right back into the ceiling from whence it came.
I let out a long, shaking breath. More than anything I wanted to wipe the tears and sweat from my face, but I still couldn’t move.
Like some sort of sadistic joke, I only had a few seconds of peace before a new arm lowered itself, this one ending in what looked like a scalpel and some other… almost tiny gun like tool.
I didn’t have time to guess what it was, or even scream, before it was on me. The blade nicked my thigh, cutting a line in my skirt and allowing blood to well up. But before the red liquid could stain the fabric, the gun-like nozzle tipped forward and sealed my skin right back up with what looked like some sort of laser.
Pain hit as an afterthought, but it was quickly swept away by adrenaline. The blade moved and made another cut, then that one was sealed up as well.
If I had a moment to think, had a moment to breath, I could try to piece together why I felt like these things weren’t harming me for no reason. But as it were, I could only panickily wonder why it felt every action was deliberate and being recorded by someone, or something I couldn’t see.
More machine arms came down. Poking, prodding and scanning me. It was a maelstrom of negative experiences, and my mind began to try to shut everything out.
I couldn’t begin to say how long it went on, my body locked into terror, but eventually, the last of the arms went away and I was left in darkness.
A darkness that was completely different from the blissful one I was plunged into when I closed my eyes at the end of the night. It was cold, and lonely, and full of lurking threats that I couldn’t see or conceive.
“Let me out!” I screamed, kicking my legs at nothing. “Let me out!”
But no one did, and the small cage I was in felt like it was growing more and more empty. I cried out for hour, maybe even days, until my body gave out to exhaustion and I finally fell into the relief of unconsciousness.
Chapter Four
I sat up with a jolt, screaming my head off. Although I expected my throat to be completely raw and unable to make a sound, the full cry erupted from my mouth and I had to clap my hands over my lips to stop myself.
I whipped my head this way and that, looking for some sort of trick, some sort of incongruous detail that would let me know I was still trapped in a nightmare. But, after several moments where I was sure my heart was going to explode, I began to trust that I might actually be in my room.
But how had I gotten there? And when had I gotten into bed? Or changed for that matter?!
Looking down, I realized that I was in one of my simple nightgowns again with silky little shorts. They were a favorite of mine for the summer, but it was fall, and I never put them on when the temperatures dipped below seventy degrees.
Something was wrong. So incredibly wrong.
Yes, I was fairly sure that I was in my room. But what I wasn’t so sure of was that the horror tha
t I had just experienced was only a nightmare. Everything had been far too real, far too intense and too many details about my waking up were wrong.
But, try as I might, I couldn’t think of any sort of logical reason for what was happening. Obviously, someone was drugging me. But how? And why? And where the hell would they have something like the cage that had just sent me prisoner? And how were they able to move so damn fast. Looking at my phone -which was eerily beside my bed on my nightstand just like every other night- the clock stated that it was just after two a.m.
The last time I remembered seeing clearly before I passed out in my Livingroom was seven p.m., which meant that a little less than seven hours had passed. Somehow, someway, someone had broken into my house, hauled me out, performed all sorts of sadistic experiments only to return me, change my clothes and set it up like I had peacefully fallen asleep just like every other night.
But how could they know my nightly routine, unless they had been watching me? Were they watching me now? Did they know that I had been awake for their little procedure? Did they want me to be terrified and know that they were there, or had the entire pot of coffee I downed counteracted whatever sedative they had dosed me with?
And finally, who were they? Who on earth had the means and the desire to completely fuck with me in such a way? What could their motivation possibly be? I wasn’t some sort of important political figure, or celebrity, or even a rich person. I was a goddamned librarian who helped the local non-for-profits. I was a nerd who had lost their passion, and more than anything, I was a nobody.
Those thoughts chased themselves around and around in her head, whipping her up into another frenzy. Her head hurt, her heart hurt, everything hurt. I needed to calm down, but how could I? Something terribly wrong was happening, but I couldn’t find the pieces to match it all together.
Well, I wasn’t going to solve anything from my bed. I might as well get up and try to come up with some sort of plan. Surely, with the vast world we lived in, someone had to have experienced the same thing and put it on the internet.
But first, coffee.
Granted, it hadn’t exactly saved me last time, so I decided to go to the extreme. For the first time in my life, I was going to consume an energy drink. I was sure the twenty-four-hour store around the corner had a wide selection, so I quickly threw on some passable clothes and walked towards my door.
But a curious thing happened as I went. With every step I took towards the door, panic began to rise within me, wicked and sharp. It was as biting as it was persistent, and by the time I was close enough to turn the knob, my hands were shaking.
I… I couldn’t go outside. It was such a big, wide world out there and danger could be lurking around every corner. I needed safety and out there wasn’t safe at all.
“Dammit,” I hissed to myself, staring at the doorway. “It looks like no energy drinks after all.”
That was fine. I had plenty I could do here anyways.
I remembered, during a break at the library, I had read an article about how certain frequencies could induce hallucinations and actual, physical illness in humans. Maybe, somehow, I was being dosed with some sort of sound experiment? Or it could even be an accident. Maybe citizens all over the city were having similar reactions.
While I waited for my coffee to brew, I scoured my apartment for supplies. A few minutes later, I had a roll of duct tape, some foil, a metronome and several of the small fans I used in the summer.
I started at my Livingroom windows and sealed all the cracks with a combination of twists of aluminum foil and the tape. I knew it was going to be a bitch to get off, but I didn’t quite care at the moment. The only thing that mattered was insulating myself. Plus, if anyone was getting in through my windows, they were going to have to make a lot of noise to get in and it was going to take them at least a couple of minute longer.
As I went from window to window, I checked the areas around them for anything suspicious. Speakers, hidden cameras, wires, anything that looked out of place. Unfortunately, I came up with nothing, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t being watched.
And if I was… what did think of my frantic preparations? Were they laughing at me? Mocking my feeble attempts to subvert them? Who knew. I didn’t even know if there was a them. But if there wasn’t, and this whole situation was just a few hyper-realistic dreams, then it was definitely time to start seeing a therapist.
That… that could be a possibility, right? That I was going insane? I didn’t like to think about it and I certainly felt like I wasn’t crazy, but I suppose that didn’t mean much of anything. The only issue was, how would I ever know? It wasn’t like a warning light would go off above my head, telling me that it was time to see a shrink.
I shook my head against the thought. I didn’t have time for doubt. I needed to be proactive and not debate on if I was one hundred percent on my rocker or not.
Once I was finished taping, I went about setting up other sound traps. I tied several spoons along a string then hung it up in a door. When it stayed up with only a small square of tape, I nodded in satisfaction to myself and made more.
I had about a dozen of the jangle-chains after using up the meager number of utensils in my collection, and after hanging them all up in different doors, I then moved on to laying out cups of water at random points in my apartment.
When I did everything that I could think of, I stood in the center of my apartment and looked around. To be honest, it looked like a hot mass, but I didn’t care. There was no way anyone was going to be able to sneak up on my bed without my knowing. These thugs, or Big Pharma, or scientist or whoever the hell were messing with me were going to get a taste of why one shouldn’t screw with a Librarian.
Or at least… that’s what I hoped.
What was that about not having time for doubt? I needed to start listening to myself instead of wasting time wondering where the line between reality and fantasy was. It seemed that it was finally time for part two of her plan.
Thank God for the internet.
Chapter Five
Turns out there were a lot of people with unexplainable experience on the internet, and after three hours, I felt no closer to an answer than I had when I started.
Obviously, many of the people online needed mental help from a professional, but some of them had been presented from people just like her. Just regular, every day folks wondering if they were crazy or if someone was playing the most elaborate prank on them.
I would have felt sorry for them if I wasn’t so busy fearing for my own life. And, much to my dismay, I didn’t find any solace in their tales.
One woman found herself taken from her bed every night, but she just sat in a grand room where giant people around talked around her in a language she didn’t understand. They never harmed her, never even touched her, just seemed to enjoy her company. Strange, but definitely not my situation.
Another person swore that they were whisked away to hell every night, where they were consumed by fire and brimstone for their transgressions. I pondered for a moment if that terrifying box I had been in could have been my own version of Hades, but decided against it. That didn’t explain the sex with the two men.
…my mind drifted at that, recalling the perfect landscapes of male flesh. I felt warmth already starting to gather in my middle and a very particular ache between my fingers. Whoever those men are, they had known exactly how to play my body. They were the best lovers I had ever had, and yet I couldn’t say if they were real.
But it didn’t matter if they were. Suddenly, I found my hand creeping towards my center, spurred on by my recollection of their own touches. God, they had alit a passion in me that I had never had before. Was it so wrong of me to crave more of it? To need more of it?”
“Stop that.” I ordered, shaking my head almost violently.
That seemed to help, and I gathered my focus again. Looking to the document I had put together of stories that seemed somewhat similar to mine, I tried to find
some sort of answer. Something that I might have missed.
But there didn’t seem to be anything at all.
The closest that I could find were the stories of UFO sightings and alien abductions. Except there were no little gray men in my experience. No, the blond man and the dark-haired man weren’t little in any iteration of the word.
My face went flush again as I got caught up in another day dream. I could practically feel his arms wrap around me as he held my waist, his erection pressing just so against my backside. Promising wonderful, wild feelings that I wanted more than anything to be drunk on. It took several gulps of lukewarm coffee before I came back to reality yet again.
But it was too late, my whole body was warm and calling out for a little physical satisfaction. Jumping to my feet, I rushed to the bathroom and turned the sink’s faucet to the coldest it could possibly be. I let it run for several seconds before collecting some between my hands and throwing it in my face.
The shock of the temperature change was certainly something else, and I gasped. Normalcy returned a bit and I wiped my face while repeating to myself that I needed to focus. I couldn’t afford to let my guard slip for even a moment considering I didn’t know whether these attacks came from the inside or out.
But as soon as I reached my room, my womanhood started to throb wantonly again. If I had a friend with benefits, I would definitely be calling them urgently. But of course I didn’t, because I wasn’t that kind of girl. I wasn’t the confident beauty who clicked with partners like that. I wasn’t the secure woman who could enjoy intimacy with multiple people because I was confident in myself.
I was just… me.
I sat down at my computer, but as I did, I felt a familiar sort of comfort begin to lap at my feet. No, no. That could not be happening. Within an instant I was marching to my kitchen and downing what had to be my third pot of coffee since I had awoken.
Forced To Kill The Prince Page 7