Taken Hostage

by Hutchins, Hollie

  The man was still grinding against me, practically in a frenzy after my climax around him. Less than a breath later, I felt him throb within me, then bury himself to the hit as he practically roared.

  My body was filled with warmth almost immediately, and I gasped at the sensation. His ending went much more quickly than mine had, and we both collapsed to the mattress, completely breathless.

  Just like before, I could feel sleep suddenly forcing itself onto me, rolling up my body like the world’s coziest, warmest blanket. But, unlike before, I found questions coming to the front of my mind. Questions that demanded answers more insistently than my brain demanded sleep.

  “Is any of this real?” I asked, rolling to him and taking his face in my hands. The amount of detail I saw there was uncanny. The faintest hint of stubble around his chin, a tiny, pale line on his forehead that looked like it might have once been a scar, but had long since faded, the way his eyes burred into my own.

  “You’re just dreaming,” He murmured, voice low and rumbling.

  “I don’t feel like I’m dreaming.” I took a deep breath. Everything was so real. The smell of the air, the smell of him, the feel of the sheets below me.

  “Shhh,” he soothed, brushing my hair out of my face. “Just relax. You’ve earned some rest.”

  I wanted to argue with him, and to ask more questions, but instead my eyelids slowly slid shut and I was swept off into the darkness yet again.

  Chapter Three

  I sighed as I stumbled into my door, exhaustion wreaking havoc with my body.

  “And of course, it had to rain today.” I grumbled, wringing out my hair on the welcome mat.

  Although I had slept for so long, I had still woken up exhausted, my body flushed like I had actually experienced my explicit dream. As much as I liked the little romps my minds were cooking up for me, I hated going through my day so tired and distracted. My mind kept flitting back to the dark-haired man and what he did to me. The way he looked at me. No one had ever looked at me like that, and even if it wasn’t real, it made me feel…

  Special.

  I shook my head. Going to sleep so early had lost me too much time, so I needed to make sure I stayed up. Beelining straight towards my kitchen, I started up my automatic coffee maker and let it do its thing.

  And it if I was being honest, deep inside of me, I knew something about these sex dreams were wrong. I had spent hours and hours going over it in my mind, trying to reason out the strange feeling that what I was imagining was less fantasy and more reality. Maybe someone was drugging me and taking me to some kind of kinky sex dungeon?

  No, that didn’t make sense. Why would they return me to her bed every night? And how were they transporting me? Someone was going to notice strange men hauling off a woman in her nighty then returning her a few hours later.

  But still, the strong, irresistible urge to sleep was incredibly suspicious. And since I couldn’t figure it out, I was going to treat that as enemy number one. Besides, I hadn’t pulled an all nightery in forever. It would take me right back to college.

  The wonderful smell of brewing beans filled my modest apartment and it filled me with relief. Sure, my dreams were doing very strange things, and my sleep schedule was completely out of whack, but at least I could count on the delicious, caffeinated dependability of a good ol’ cup of joe.

  I busied myself with pulling paperwork from my work satchel and setting up my laptop until my coffee was done brewing, then poured myself a cup. As I mixed in my creamer, I felt sleep try to tug at me. While I normally liked to enjoy a mug over an hour or so, even as it lost its heat and turned lukewarm, I downed this cup in just a few gulps.

  “Ah,” I said, setting the mug back down. “That was refreshing.” I turned to go back to my work desk before hesitating. I stood there a moment, then turned back and poured myself another cup.

  Then I downed that too.

  In the end, I finished off the entire pot in about fifteen minutes, standing at my kitchen counter and chugging the coffee-creamer mixture until I was so full I might burst. I was going to have to pee like hell later, but at least now I would hopefully be able to stay up for more than an hour.

  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 eno
ugh 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 that 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 an
d 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.