I’m sitting up in a chair now. Arms tied behind my back, which is creating a very uncomfortable strain in my shoulders. The zip ties around my wrists are cutting into my skin, I feel it blistering, my fingers are a little numb.
My feet. No shoes. Those have been taken. Socks too. My ankles are also zip-tied to the legs of the chair. The carpet is scratchy against my toes.
It’s a struggle for me to take a deep breath. There are still drugs in my system. My head is throbbing. I tilt it backwards, and my neck feels so loose.
“Oooommmph.”Even my tongue is limp. Somehow, my mouth is full of drool, but I’m so thirsty.
“Waa…t-terr.”I don’t even know if anyone is around me. They haven’t killed me yet, which means they want me alive for now. It’d be in their best interest to give me water. And a change of pants. Fuck. I can smell my urine. I cough and gag, spitting out a mucus-blood mixture.
“Shhh…” A voice comes from somewhere around me.
They grip my chin between their thumb and index finger,not gently. Opening my mouth, they pour tepid water into my mouth. I do my best to swallow it down but end up coughing a lot of it out.
“Please. Why are you doing this? Who are you?” I do my best to open my eyes, fighting the heaviness from the drugs in my system.
They don’t say anything. They open my mouth again and begin pouring more water down my throat, at least at a slower rate. I’m able to drink more this time. I’m exhausted just from drinking and speaking a few words. They gave me some serious sedatives. The good news about that is I’ll probably be really constipated and not have to worry about shitting myself. Seeing how this person, orpersons, has no interest in letting me use a fucking toilet.
“Please. My name is Jon Jacob. I’m a doctor. I’ve never hurt anybody. You’ve got the wrong guy. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone.” I feel pathetic begging and babbling for my life. I don’t have anything else I can do until I become more lucid.
“Shhhh….” Isthatall this person can say?
They grab my hair, opening the gash they created when they hit me over the head initially. I feel fresh blood dripping down my hairline and into my eyes. I squeeze my eyes closed and try to breathe through the sharp pain. The next thing I feel is the prick of a needle in the side of my neck.
“No! Please. I’ll be quiet. Please!” I can’t handle any more drugs in my system. My system is already flooded. I can barely think. I need to be awake. I need to be able to come up with a plan to get out of here.
How long until someone realizes I’m missing?
Dr. Nash told me not to come back to work until next week. What day is it? Nicolette would be the only person to reach out to me, butshe shouldn’t expect a response from me. Maybe Lance? He’s so busy with work, too. We’ve gone over a week without seeing or speaking much and not thinking much of it.
Margeaux…
She’s the only person who will miss me. We haven’t gone a day without speaking. She would know something is wrong.Right?We haven’t spoken the words yet, but we’ve felt them.I’vefelt them.
I feel the cold burning of the sedative being pushed into my vein. I already feel it working, pulling me under. Pulling me away from consciousness.
“Margeaux…” I let her name leave my lips as total blackness envelopes me.
When I get out of here, I’m going to rewrite the protocol on sedatives and painkiller usage for pediatric patients. I’ve never used drugs before. Reading about the effects, watching YouTube tutorials, or seeing documentaries about the side effects of these drugs on the body, is nothing like experiencing it firsthand. I’m strung out after just a couple of days on this shit. Granted, the person administering these drugs to me isn’t adhering to proper dosage guidelines. Nonetheless. This is terrible. I feel like I’m outside of my body. I’m a series of disconnected pieces of myself, floating around the same space, trying to rejoin.
I guess theonegood thing is that I can’t feel the pain in my head. Nor do I care that I’ve pissed myself,again. I’m going to have the worst rash whenever I get out of here. Iamgetting out of here. I refuse to be found dead, tied to a chair, bloody, and drenched in my own pee and excrement.
As if I spoke the words out loud—and maybe I did— I’m splashed with cold water from head to toe.
“Ahhh! Ahh! Uhhh!” I shake my head, feeling the floating parts of my body melding back together.
I blink my eyes rapidly and shake my head free of water. In front of me is a tall person, completely covered in black. Even their face. Howcliché. They seem tall. I’m sitting down, so it’s hard to gauge how tall they are. My vision is still a little blurry. They seem to be scribbling on a notepad, or small whiteboard.
They flip the board around and I read it.
Cooperate and you get to live.
“Yes. Okay. What do you want from me?”
They go back to scribbling. This is going to take forever. Maybe they can’t speak. Or, maybe they have a distinct voice they don’t want me to identify later on. I tug at my restraints, and they have a little more give. I think if I can keep my hands moving, I can get them free.
The whiteboard is flipped around again.
You took what’s mine.
