The Trade

Not a Tuesday

The feeling in her arms and legs was numbness, and it felt like having needles poking her repeatedly. The blindfold was also not doing her any favors because without her sight it heightened her other senses. She not only felt pins and needles through her body, but the rest of her senses were uncomfortable; the smell of dust, the sound of humming from the car, and the taste of the tape was on her mouth. She had a sense of exhaustion from her emotional performance. This was not what she imagined a typical day to be; she was more so waiting to grab a cup of coffee and bagel and head to class. The car finally stopped and she could hear the trunk opening. She was going to fight, but before she could a powerful scent and cloth reached her nose and she passed out.

The man had picked her up with as much care as he could muster, making sure her head was secure and that his grip was tight so she wouldn't fall. The trip to her room was slightly difficult since taking a body upstairs was harder than he expected. After getting her up the stairs, he took a minute to catch his breath, double checking that his grip on her wasn't slipping. He unlocked the door with his hand under Janelle's legs and kicked the door wide open. The attention to her interests was something he took pride in. He wanted her to be comfortable. He painted the room the color light blue; the drawer was a modest size, not overly large but not embarrassingly small, and was the color white. Those were the colors he saw her in most and assumed she liked them. The bed was a twin-sized bed with Egyptian silk sheets that should feel like a smooth river of comfort. Putting her on the bed as you would a newborn baby and touching her face with the back of his hand, sliding down her cheek with a gaze of intense fascination. He headed to the door but took one last look, then closed the door and locked it.