The smell of fresh coffee breaks through the sleepiness in my bones, the scent of baked goods awakens my hunger, my stomach rumbles and my eyes open into bright natural light.
All of a sudden the whole room is visible to me, my vision sharp enough to pinpoint the dust motes floating in the sunlight shining through a long wall of high set stained glass windows. Yellow and purple glass make up pretty tulips and fancy borders that were previously hidden from my view.
A few more house plants have joined the fern around the space and a Turkish rug sits in front of the buffet.
On the buffet though, the very things that woke me. A coffee maker with the pot filled and steamy hot, a plate of French pastries, and a bowl of fruit. There's a glassed fronted fridge showing cans of soda, bottled water and even wine.
I look around the room, confused at where all of this came from, I look for Doc.
I look at myself, clean, dressed in my own clothes.
Yoga pants and a bra, a oversized tee shirt my mother brought back from one of her many vacations that has a palm tree on the front.
It's one of my tried and true lazy Sunday outfits.
Though my circumstances seems to have improved vastly, the open and well lit space is unsettling in the way I'm now so exposed. The proportions of the open plan basement feel too large.
The length of my chains remain the same, leaving doubtful I'd reach the tan lazyboy recliner in the far corner.
Or my laptop on the side table next to it.
Obviously that's his preferred voyeur position.
Left isn't even my good side, I think snidely.
There's no sign of him.
Only my chains connect me to the bed, now dressed with thick and buttery linen and a patchwork quilt that looks handmade, with love.
I take a deep breath and test the strength of my legs, surprised when they move with my every command.
With caution I sit up, my brain pounds against my skull but otherwise I feel well. My pulse doesn't echo through my limbs and I take that as a good sign.
I make my feet touch the floor, my bodyweight has my knees buckling for a second but my legs recover quickly.
I sway slightly to be upright and I grip the bed for balance.
I'm up!
Actually standing and conscious.
The feeling is both incredible and scary, I don't trust it to last.
Maybe the Doctor is already on his way, surprised that his drugs have worn off.
Gingerly I step closer to the coffee pot, one step, two..... slowly, and twelve steps in total, I reach my target.
There's two coffee mugs that remind me of the kind my parents have, brought to the present from the eighties and glazed with many shades of green.
My whole body rejoices with the taste of hot fresh coffe, black, no sugar and just a little Cinnamon.
Just the way I like it.
Three swallows and I fill my mouth with a flakey, buttery croissant. I don't even bother with the preserves or lemon curd set out for spreading.
It feels like I've never eaten in my life.
It's pure bliss.
"Wherever you are, Doc.... from the bottom of my stomach, I thank you" I mumble out loud with a mouthful and pop a blueberry in without swallowing.
I force it down with more coffee.
"Everything here is for you, but maybe take your time so you can keep it, huh?" Comes the amused reply from a speaker on the wall.
I turn and look for a camera.
I see it in plain sight sitting proudly on top on the old television, the blank television screen.
It would take in the whole room if it had a wide lens.
"Doc?" I ask even though now I recognise his voice.
"How are you feeling?"
"Creeped out, thanks for asking" I nod even though he scares me.
"You look good, you have colour in your cheeks not brought on by fever" he comments and I hide my face under my coffee mug.
