Page 2 of Stolen Slave

And so did I.

A hand on the oversensitive skin of my arm sent a jolt of pain through me. I groaned, disoriented and nauseous.

"Thank God you're not dead. Please wake up. I don't want to be alone here."

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, I opened my eyes and discovered they couldn’t focus. All I could see were light areas and brown areas. Then something big invaded my field of vision. The view of the blurry, pale face didn’t clear as I blinked.

“Why can’t I see?” I didn’t sound like myself. My voice was barely a rasp, and it hurt to talk. I lifted my hand to my throat and touched a thick metal band.

“I think you took too many shocks. Your eyes don’t look good. They’re all bloody. Not bleeding, just all red instead of white.”

It all came flooding back. The bathing room and the alien handjobs.

The girl’s hands slid under me, and she tried lifting my shoulders.

“Stop. You’re hurting me.”

“You need to sit up. I don’t know how much time we have.”

“Time for what? What’s going on? Why are we here?” Tears started to form, and I started shaking again because I couldn’t see.

“Shut up and listen,” the girl hissed, shoving me into a sitting position.

My joints protested. Everywhere she touched burned and tingled painfully.

“I think we work from whistle to whistle. That’s what I heard just before the first alien walked out of the room after showing me what to do. And I heard it again just before the things stopped showing up for baths, and they dragged me back here. I don’t know how long this break will last, but we need to eat then sleep.” She shoved something into my hands. It felt like a bowl.

“What is it?”

“Just drink and keep listening. There are six of us in this room. We’re the only two awake. One’s still breathing, the other three aren’t. They were already here when I was dragged in. They are wearing the same collars. They have burn marks under their collars, and their eyes are red like yours. Do you know what that means?”

I shook my head.

“You can’t afford any more shocks. The other girl, the one who’s still breathing, looks like you too. Burn marks on her neck and bloody eyes rolled back in her head when I checked her.”

I lifted the bowl to my lips, fighting the urge to cry, and took a drink.

“They don’t want us to die. They just want us to work. When the whistle blows again, you’re going to stand up and follow the alien that leads you to your workroom. You’re going to bathe those fuckers and jerk them off and rinse the tub and do it all fast because you can’t get shocked again. Am I clear?”

The angry intensity in her voice vanished with her next words.

“I can’t do this alone,” she whispered.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Mila. What’s yours?”

“Vya.”

“Finish drinking, Vya. Then go to sleep. I hope you wake up again.”

I nodded and drank a chunky nasty broth. The tears freely trailing down my cheeks didn’t help clear my vision, so I closed my eyes and focused on listening. I could hear Mila’s breathing and how it hitched occasionally. She was either crying or close to it. Beyond that, I heard another person breathing.

Everything that Mila told me settled over my mind like a heavy blanket. It weighed down the panic and stopped the shaking.

This was my reality, and unless I wanted to be the next one to die, I needed to do exactly what she’d said.

I finished my bowl, set it to the side, then reached out my hand. Mila’s fingers immediately closed over mine, and we curled together to sleep on the floor. It smelled bad wherever we were, and I was suddenly grateful that I couldn’t see everything clearly. I closed my eyes and slept.

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