6

I learned my lesson last time I started to capture my consciousness. Don't start with limbs that can give me away. This time, I'm starting with my face. I need to get my eyes to open. I need to see where I am. I need to see who has taken me. I need to see ANYTHING so I can try to find a way out of here.

Of course it can't be as simple as willing my eyelids to open and cooperate just because I want them to. I will never take the simple neurological reactions of my body for granted ever again.

Since my eyelids are still on hiatus, I focus on my eyeballs. With my eyes closed, I pour all of my will into simply moving my eyes back and forth beneath the lids.

I don't know how much time has passed, but I will not die here. Wherever the hell here is.

Wait, was that a twitch? I honestly can't tell if my eye really moved or if I imagined it.

The thought barely has time to be absorbed as I feel it again.

I'm making progress. I can do this.

While I continue to focus on moving my eyeballs, I hear heavy steps. They sound as though they are descending, so either I'm in some kind of basement, or it's a two-story house and they are upstairs. I need to gather all the information I can about my surroundings. No matter how small.

The steps continue towards me before stopping. I'm drowning in the silence when another set of steps, less heavy than the first, walk the same path as the first person, but everything else is still silent.

I steady my breathing as best as I can to try and hide my growing panic. I don't want them to drug me again. Last time they did, it was my own fault for giving myself away.

It feels like an eternity passes before they begin speaking in hushed tones, so low I have to use all my focus to hone in on the sounds of their voices. I don't recognize either one of them, not that I know that many people to compare them to. One sounds like some rich, bossy dude, and the other sounds like maybe he's just the hired help.

“Has she moved again?” Bossy Rich Dude asks.

“Not yet,” Hired Help answers, sounding irritated.

“We need to find a way to dispose of her once the dust settles. I need her out of my way.”

How the hell am I in this dude's way when I don't even recognize his voice? I know less than ten people, and I've managed to upset someone enough to need to be DISPOSED of?!

Calm down, Leera. Panic will only let them know you're awake. Breathe steadily. Think of happy things. Pink fuzzy blankets. Cool Beans coffee. Roman.

The last one threatens to rip a small sob from my body at the possibility of never seeing him again. At the thought of him going through the pain of losing a second mate.

He won't lose another mate because you're going to survive this. Whatever this is. Now keep breathing as normally as possible, keep trying to move your eyes, and listen.

I lost myself to my thoughts for so long I don't know how much of their conversation I missed. Bossy Rich Dude is still talking, “They’re definitely aware of her absence, and it's causing quite the spectacle.”

“Why's everyone making such a big deal over some little orphaned college chick?” Hired Help asks.

“She's so much more than that. None of the details are your concern. Do what you're paid to do and nothing else,” Bossy Rich Dude huffs out. I can hear one of them leave the room.

Steps approach me slowly, and I freeze, trying not to let them see my attempt at moving my eyeballs so that I can hopefully appear to remain unconscious.

After several moments, the unknown man seems to be convinced, and I hear him also leave the space and ascend to wherever else there is to go.

I wait a few extra minutes to make sure that I'm truly alone before I return to the task at hand. Knowing I'm alone, I give my eyelids the mental signal to open, and to my surprise, they very slowly respond to my plea.

While everything is extremely blurry, MY EYES ARE OPEN! I rapidly blink my eyes, trying to clear away the drug-induced haze. A bajillion blinks later, the area is coming into focus.

Definitely a basement. I'm lying on an old, worn, army green sleeping bag along the far wall. There is a large concrete floor beneath me and a couple of wooden beams connecting the floor to the wooden rafters above. I wouldn't really call it a ceiling since the space is clearly unfinished. There are two swinging, single lightbulbs in place to illuminate the space, but only the one farthest from me is on. The one closest to me is either burned out or turned off, leaving my body lying in the darkest part of the room. The stairs are the farthest point from my body and are also bare wood.

Having taken in and catalogued my surroundings, I bring myself back to waking each part of my body. Since my eyes cooperated first, I try to turn my head. I don't get a reaction immediately, so I just keep begging my brain, just turn half way around, and my body answers my call! Now that my head is cooperating, I lift it up to check my body for any signs of assault. Tears sting my eyes when I find myself completely intact.

Okay, okay, I can do this!

Next step, my arms, but I'll start with my fingers. The next several minutes are spent focusing all my power on moving my fingers. Just a little wiggle to let me know that I'm making progress. The panic begins to swell again. Why can't my anxiety remain paralyzed? I focus on my grounding tools. Taking my attention away from moving my fingers to calm my terrified heart . I don't have time to be scared if I want to get out of this.

After taking a handful of deep breaths and naming an animal for each letter of the alphabet, moving backwards from Z to A, I’ve calmed myself down enough to stave off the panic attack that so badly wants to consume my body.

To my surprise, my fingers wiggle without as much work this time, and I thank whatever gods above for the small reprieve.

Okay, fingers wiggling, check. Now my arms. Alright, body, let’s do this. I start with a simple twirl of my wrist, and again, it answers immediately. It’s slow, but it’s still moving. I continue to roll it in a clockwise motion a few times. Then do the same with the other hand. I see a sudden small flash of light, and my heart begins stampeding in my chest at the thought of being caught moving.

I instantly still myself, bracing for the worst, but nothing comes. No one is here. What was that light? I look around the space again and confirm there aren't windows, so it's not like a car drove by with lights on or something.

Is it even daylight outside or the middle of the night? As a reflex, I lift my arm to check the time on my smartwatch. MY SMARTWATCH! That's what the light was! IT'S NOT DEAD! OH MY GOD. And my body responded to the reflex without forceful thought. A small whimper does escape me as I fight to hold in the ugly cries trying to wreck my body.

Focus Leera. The battery is almost dead. As quickly as my fingers can move in their groggy state, I type up a text to Roman. Just as I hit send, my watch powers down, and I don't know if it sent my message before it shut down.

At that, I allow a few tears to escape.

I spend a few more minutes moving different parts of my body to find I've regained most of my control.

Using all this time and strength to regain function of myself has drained my body’s battery, and I find myself falling back into the darkness. At least this time it’s my choice, and not from a needle.

No sooner than the thought passes do I hear the descent of heavy footsteps again. I try to drag myself back to the light to beg them to leave me alone, but I used every ounce of stamina I had. “Sorry, Doll Face, can't have you waking up and ruining things,” Hired Help says as I feel the stick of yet another needle in my neck.

I'm so sorry, Roman. I tried.