Zombie Soap 2: Conspiracy

Nine

Jeannie

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Jeannie groaned. That machine was really beginning to piss her off. It was worse than a song being stuck in her head on repeat, accompanying her to bed and greeting her as she awoke. If restraints weren't keeping her to the bed, she'd gladly destroy the monitor just to have a minute of peace.

She slowly opened her eyes, blinking past the crusties from the night before. For once, the lights were dimmed, not blinding her like an old torture device.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Ugh, she wished it would stop. Perhaps this was a method designed to drive her insane, or she'd gone to Hell for something she'd done in a past life. She was unable to move in her restraints, forced to listen to the steady heart monitor.

Her only reprieve was the blond man who continued to visit her when no one else was around. She wished she could remember him. There wasn't even a name to go with his face-just gold hair, emerald eyes, and a blood-stained blue shirt with a hideous salmon colored tie.

Once again, he sat by her side, watching her with an emotional gaze as he reached for her. The bed didn't shift with him, nor did she feel his touch, forcing her to accept he wasn't real. Whether he was a memory or a figment of her imagination, Jeannie welcomed his company. He couldn't release her from her personal Hell, but he showed her kindness no one else had bothered with.

"Hi," she murmured, reaching for him with a phantom hand that didn't exist before remembering once again, her arm was gone, cut off beneath the elbow.

Her mystery man rested his hand over hers, watching her with downturned lips. "You've forgotten me."

Jeannie looked up with a sigh, wishing she could move. She hated lying still for so long, losing track of time in the same place. Every now and then, the man came into her view, but she wasn't sure if she remembered what he looked like because she knew him or if she'd made him up.

"I can't even remember who I am. Is it forgetful if you're not real?"

"I'm real to you," he said softly.

"No one else can see you," she countered, unable to help her smile. He was her secret, and she enjoyed the confusion it caused the others who came for her. "I guess this makes me crazy if I'm speaking to myself since you're in my head."

"Maybe," he conceded, indicating he was also smiling. If Jeannie imagined hard enough, she almost believed this man's head had lowered to her ear or his breath tickled her ear as he whispered into it. "I love you, Jean Bean. Never forget that."

Before she could instinctively reciprocate the sentiment, the door to her room hissed open, followed by a set of footsteps. Her invisible friend disappeared, leaving Jeannie alone to face whatever new experiments her captors held in store for her today.

"Hello, Miss Adams. How are you feeling today?"

The familiar voice grated on her, making her scowl. She'd prefer her imaginary friend over this cold man.

As if on cue to his arrival, the vent overhead came on, blowing air across her body. Her gown was thinner than paper, allowing goosebumps to ripple across her flesh. Clothes-even a blanket would have been nice, except she hadn't once been permitted to leave her restraints. Someone came in each day to clean her up and change out the pad beneath her, completely taking away her independence.

She didn't know if this was by design, but she hated it. She felt violated, exposed, and most of all, trapped. Inhaling sharply through her nose, she clenched her fist. "I'm cold," she said, refraining from screaming at him.