The Daughter Extraction

A visitor in the dark

•LUNA•

Being bedridden comes with the overwhelming fear that the longer you stay in bed, staring at the ceiling all day, the more you lose touch with reality.

If there is one thing I would hate the most in the world, it would be the lack of freedom, whether it's by choice or not.

Days quickly fly by, yet time feels like it is stretching out longer and slower on purpose. The cycle repeats every day: I wake up, go through a few medical checkups in bed, take some medication, have something to eat, and then go straight back to sleep.

The routine is so tiring that it actually feels like it is draining my energy rather than helping me gain some.

The coldness from the night that lingers in my bedroom erases every bit of warmth I try so desperately to build day by day to at least provide a sense of comfort like before.

This was supposed to be my safe haven, but lately, it hasn't been that way for a very long time due to so many events taking place in my life.

I release a small cough, which immediately triggers the need for water. I glance at the glass the nurse always places on my bedside table and feel a little disappointment when I see it is nearly empty.

It is almost 9 PM, which is usually the time I go to sleep. But since the doctors changed the regular medication I've been taking, it has been harder to find something else to distract myself with other than relying on those pills to help me fall asleep faster.

I stopped getting the drip needle two days ago, much to my relief. Now it is a little easier to move around the room for a bit, even though it takes a while to deal with the nausea and dizziness every time I try to get off the bed.

I do a small breathing exercise while sitting up, and after a minute or two, I slowly put my legs over the bed and attempt to stand up. I keep my eyes closed the entire time, and when it feels like everything has subsided, I slowly open them and move across the room.

There is a small table set up on the other side, right in front of the window that overlooks the main gate outside. A few bottled waters and healthy snacks recommended by my medical team are organized on top of the table.

I grab one of the water bottles and unscrew the cap to take a sip. My eyes look through the window while I swallow huge gulps of water, finally satisfying my thirst.

Something moves in the dark outside, and I immediately freeze, the mouth of the bottle still glued to my lips as I follow the movements with my eyes. My heart starts hammering against my rib cage when I realize there are dark figures jumping off the gate and walking into the compound.

The unmistakable shadow of a weapon in their arms sets off alarms in my head. The bottle drops from my hand and lands with a splash on the floor. I hesitantly take a step backward, my heart already in my throat as I realize what is going on.

I am deprived of any gadgets since my doctors advised no screen time. So I have nothing to use to call someone for help or find out what's really going on.

I frantically look around my dull bedroom but suddenly freeze when I hear footsteps coming up the staircase. My father is out for a conference dinner with Uncle Danny, the nurses have already gone home, and the maids are probably asleep in their quarters.

Oh God, oh God, oh God

What the hell do I do?

I freeze when I hear movements outside my bedroom door. I spot the umbrella next to my vanity on the side, but before I can take another step forward to grab it, the door swings open and someone walks in.