A Year of Stories

Seven Days With Nicolette

Day One.

I wake up to scarlet hair and emerald eyes.

"Hi."

It's a woman, no more than a girl really – early 20s at the most. She's smiling, but there is something cold about it, dead even, as if her expression were drawn on with ruby, red crayon.

"Bite down."

Her voice is English by way of period films. She would play either the scullery maid or the cut purse, maybe a scullery maid who moonlit as a cut purse.

She thrusts a rolled up bit of cloth into my mouth, and I bite down reflexively. It's only now that I realize that I can't move my arms and legs. I'm not tied up, I just can't move, my limbs might as well be welded to the chair.

"My name is Nicolette, your name is Vivian. Why do you think you're here?"

I don't know, but I couldn't answer if I wanted to with this dish rag stuffed into my mouth. I doubt this would come as a surprise to her.

"Oh, right, the bit. You'll understand why that's there in a tick, call it a gift, though it does make this part a little more difficult. Let's see, did your answer go something like this, 'I don't know, but I couldn't answer if I wanted to with this dish rag stuffed into my mouth.' Nod once if I'm close..."

I nod because I've decided that this must be a nightmare, and in the off chance that it isn't, there is no point arguing when I can't even move.

Who the Hell is this woman?

As if in response, my leg explodes, fire racing down my thighs, replaced at once by a searing, throbbing pressure which blooms ruby, red – the color of her lips. My eyes water and I bite down, digging in and almost through the strips of fabric. If not for the cloth between my teeth, I would have probably bitten my tongue off.

When my eyes clear, I see a knife standing at attention, inches into my upper thigh.

"See? That's why you have the bit, it's also why I've stopped you from wriggling around. If that knife shifts too much, it might cut an artery, and where would be then?"

I want to scream, but all I can do is choke on my own saliva.

"Alright. That's enough for today, I'm going to leave you to think about my question, and we'll reconvene in the morning. As for who I am, just consider me your god for the next few days...Cheers."

Day Two.

I wake up to a dull pain and nothing else.

I still can't move my limbs, but I can feel that my injured leg has been neatly bandaged.