Barely having fallen asleep, Daniella awoke abruptly. The shadows proclaimed that evening came again, but something disturbed her restless, pain-filled slumber.
Why did her body ache so terribly? Was this what it would feel like to wake up a few days after being pummeled by someone like a punching bag?
Her gaze automatically strayed to the monitor and caught on the drip stand. Four new bags hung from their plastic handles: two blue-tinged, one saline, and one blood.
The catheter running under the blanket drew her attention. The fluid inside wasn't clear urine but cloudy, murky, and unhealthy-looking.
A frown tugged at her brow as her eyes wandered back to the stand, drawn to the blue-tinted bags as the surrounding darkness and the backlighting from the monitors made the liquid glow brightly.
What were they doing to her, and what was she turning into? Everything about her seemed off, different, and unfamiliar.
Her vision blurred like before. She blinked, trying to clear her sight, but the sensation overtaking her was overpowering and compelling.
It hurt to swallow, and her mouth turned cottony and dry. Agony seared through her weakened body before she had a chance to brace herself, turning all previous discomfort into something vague and insubstantial.
Although her throat strained, even screaming eluded her. A moan escaped her lips, turning into a whining noise like a tiny, injured puppy.
Before she came here, pain in any form was an unfamiliar concept. Was this the price one paid for the blessed life she had lived?
Something else happened, tearing her apart on the inside as if her body split on some cellular level. Her mouth opened in a soundless, gaping scream, and the lightning bolts of searing mysery offered her no respite.
The monitors screamed as her heart beat so fast it threatened to burst from her chest, and then it stopped...
Fear turned her blood to ice, her mind reeled, and her insides churned with dread.
How was she this aware and acutely conscious of her body, the bed beneath her, the sounds of the monitors, and even the quiet drip of fluids into the catheter when she had just died?
Moments earlier, she almost heard the blood flowing through her veins, but with the stopping of her heart, this ceased.
Gaping like a fish, she fought for her life, trying to call for help, but the room remained empty.
Her consciousness dimmed to a pinpoint of light amid an ocean of darkness but briefly grew sharper, and then her heart shuddered back to life and fell into rhythm like a metronome. Uninfluenced, as if her body did not burn like lava flowed in her veins, she had not almost lost her mind, and panic did not ride her bareback.
She'd spent enough time alone in the room with the machines to notice how much slower the steady beat was.
Her blood pressure, which had skyrocketed past the monitor's ability to read it, settled at a one-third increment lower than before—far below normal for a human being.
The lull unexpectedly gave way to a second round of chemical vengeance, and tears rolled down her cheeks as her torture continued until the drips ran dry. Not long after that, her agony lessened, and tiredness rolled over her in dark, consuming waves as she slipped into unconsciousness.
***
Caught in a dream of her childhood, she found herself amid some carefree day of playing with her sister and being with her friends, with even her dog there.
Although it seemed so real, the twilight hour would be long past the time her parents allowed her to frolic outside. There were fireflies in her dream, thousands of bright white dots of light that swarmed like moving Christmas lights, and it fascinated her for a while before bothering her. Her mind worked at their incongruous presence until her brain finally worried itself awake.
***
Gloom still settled in the room, but dawn would color the sky outside. She had that five o'clock, the world was still asleep, but the sun was up, feeling, and then a sound drew her attention.
The screech of a trolley and the squeak of rubber-soled shoes on linoleum, but not close, still in a distant corridor.
Her skin crawled, and her throat constricted as she waited for the inevitable. Soon the nurse would bring more of those bags to hang on the IV stand. Dread churned through her insides, adrenaline spiked her veins, and she fought her restraints.
Those irradiated blue bags caused her suffering, of that she was sure. Her gaze caught on the catheter. Dark fluid with chunky bits clogged the line, nauseating her.
Unable to stand looking at it, she turned her attention to the wall. She should be hungry and thirsty but wasn't. Her muscles ached, her fear became a living thin, and most of all, she worried about what would happen if she survived this.
***
The trolley paused outside the door, the knob turned, and the heart monitor picked up its rhythm in the slightest as her insides turned and twisted.
"Ah, finally, you're awake. Just in time for your meds," the fake cheer did not deceive her when dark satisfaction shone so clearly in those strange eyes.
The woman did not touch the bedding, taking down the catheter and replacing it with an empty one, turning the bag to hide the contents, and the shifting weight of it turned her stomach.
The nurse hooked a new IV bag, and when she noticed how Daniella's gaze was riveted to it, that evil little smile appeared again.
The first contained blood, and Daniella frowned when the second also did. Why had she lost so much blood? She dared not ask, still remembering what the standard answer to all questions was.
The third contained saline, and hope fluttered to life when no second blue bag made its appearance, but when she saw it, unease filled her. The electric iridescent blue liquid appeared about five shades more potent than before.
"Now, just remember, don't die on me," the woman warned, but Daniella stared fixedly at the liquid as it shifted and distorted as if alive.
The nurse left and closed the door.
***
Droplets of sweat formed on Daniella's skin as she finally dragged her gaze away from the blue liquid, but instead of moisture, she saw beads of blood. Her brain barely had time to register this when her body bowed beneath a fresh onslaught.
She was on fire, like someone had poured gasoline on her, and she burned alive. It ate her flesh, devoured her skin, her cells, and finally her bones, yet the only visible effect was the blood on her skin that soaked the bed as she trashed, keened, screamed, howled, puked, pissed, and shat herself.
Judging from the foul odor, like something dead a few days and lying in the sun, she suspected that what she expelled was neither pee nor excrement. The catheter pipe looked like it contained dark blood, almost too thick to pass through.
The bags eventually emptied, and the murky blood turned to clear, frothy red before stopping. Had she finally bled out? Daniella gasped for breath, her body grew still, and the pain faded until it became bearable. Tired unto death, she hoped for oblivion, but it did not come.
Poor kid. What the hell are these people doing to her? Thoughts? Newest Version ©2014-2023 All rights reserved. If you find this on any other platform but Wattpad under @CSDreamer, please report it. No part of this book may be copied or reposted without the author's permission.
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Captive: Hopeless
ParanormalThe pervasive damp seeped through the dungeon's raw rock walls and chilled Daniella to the bone. Shivering, she could barely remember the sensation of warmth that became like the memory of her family, something far off and fuzzy. A dream of another...
