Other Fan Fiction ❯ Stolen ❯ Awakening ( Chapter 3 )

Chapter 3 - Awakening

She was warm and laying in something soft. That was all she knew. Her eyes opened lazily to a white ceiling and a slowly rotating fan. It was one of those fans whose blades were the shape of broad, tropical leaves. The light breeze it generated made a few loose strands of her hair dance around her face, tickling it slightly. She felt so heavy and...God she was so unbelievably thirsty. Her mouth felt like a dry gavel road and her throat mirrored that feeling. Sitting up very slowly, since she wasn't sure if she'd be able to maintain the posture, she looked around. The room was done in varying shades of whites and light tans. The bed she as lying in was covered in a crisp white and very fluffy comforter with about a half dozen coordinated pillows of varying sizes tossed around it. It was large, maybe a king, and she was very tempted to lie back down and succumb to its inviting ways.

She shook her head slightly and in doing so, spotted the large pitcher of water and the glass next to it. Due to the thirst she from which was suffering, she immediately poured herself a glass, managing to spill a good deal on the night table it sat on and the floor beneath it. Both the pitcher and the glass were both made of heavy plastic. Without thinking about the possible consequences of drinking unknown liquids, she downed the first glass and hurried to pour herself a second. Only after finishing the third glass did she remember why drinking water might not be the best thing for her. She remembered that he had drugged her once before with it but dying of thirst wasn't exactly the way she wanted to go either.

Only then did she notice that she wasn't wearing the blouse and skirt she had been on the plane. Instead, she now wore simple linen lounging pants and a plain white crew neck tee shirt. In a moment of utter horror, she checked her undergarments. They too were different. A searing moment of rage left her shaking but it didn't last long. She was too weak to keep up such an exhausting emotion. She slipped her legs over the edge of the bed and gingerly let her feet fall to the cool tile of the floor. Being careful of the water she'd already spilled, she shakily stood up and looked about the room a second time. There was a large window on the opposite wall that at the moment was covered by thin, linen drapes but it was obvious that it was around mid day. The sun seemed to be shining brightly behind it. She walked over to it and pulled the drape back. Her eyes were met with the sparkling ocean and the large breakers that she could see from her high vantage. Whatever kind of building this was, it was obviously built into a cliff. If she tried to break the glass and escape, she would just succeed in jumping to her death.

Letting the curtain fall back, she turned and looked at the rest of the room. Directly opposite the windowed wall was the wall the bed rested against as well as the door to her room. On the wall to her right was another door that was open, revealing a large bathroom done in the same cool whites and warm tans. In the corner was a desk and on top of that desk was a bowl of fruit and a piece of paper. Since she couldn't see it from where she was, she slowly and still groggily made her way over to it. In big bold print at the top of the page was her name.

`LISA'

The rest of the letter made her shake. She didn't know if it was from fear, sadness or fury but it was probably a fair mixture of all three.

It read: `If you're reading this then you've obviously woken up from your little drug induced mini coma. If you haven't already, you'd do well to drink plenty of the water from the jug I provided. Not only is it not drugged but it is filled with electrolytes and nutrients your body is probably starved for at the moment. You'll begin to feel better fairly soon after drinking it.

Now, you're probably wondering why you're here and instead of telling you in person, I just thought it would be easier to explain the situation in writing while you're still fairly calm as a result of the drugs. I have no doubt that even your pharmaceutical induced calm would overcome seeing me personally at the moment. As I have told you now twice, I have stolen you. Now don't be alarmed by this. It was better than the alternative. Death.

You belong to me now. Now don't get your little feminist ideals all worked up quite yet, at least not until I finish this explanation. Right now you are alone. If you look out your window, you'll see the ocean. It surrounds you as you are now on a small island that is no longer than a mile across and less than a quarter of a mile wide. There are no other dwellings on the island, only the one you are in now.

You are also dead. Well, not physically speaking but in terms of how society views it, you are. A cabbie along with the body of a young woman were found in a rather deadly accident en route to your home. There was a large fire and dental records were needed to verify the identity of the two victims. Also, your purse was found thrown from the car. Needless to say, with the right people you can fake anything.

Though grieving over the loss of his only daughter, Joe Reisert is alive and well. There was no need to do anything about him since he was in no way actively involved in the Lux Job.

Finally, this is my home. I am the only one that can access communication systems with the coast, we are more than thirty miles from the next inhabited land mass and everything you live, eat and breath will be provided by yours truly. So, as I stated before, you belong to me. Now go ahead and let those female emotions run wild. I'll be in to check on you soon.

Oh and Leese, don't try anything foolish like attempting to bash me over the head with that plastic jug or the bowl that the fruit's in. You're going to be with me for a very long time and starting out that way would be, well, unfortunate.

JR'

By the end of the note, she was shaking and crying so violently that she fell to the ground, her legs unwilling to support her exhausted and starving body. This couldn't be. It just couldn't. Everything that had happened to her within the last...however long it had been since before the takeoff of the red eye seemed so surreal at the moment. How had all this happened? How had she gone from her fairly simply, common life to this? The enormity of the situation was so overwhelming at the moment that Lisa just sat there, unmoving for what was probably an hour. She just sat there, with the letter clenched tightly in one fist while her eyes stayed glued to the door of her room.

Why her? Why the Keefes? God, what was happening in her life? What was she going to do next? On the plane, little ideas of how to stop it all had bounced through her head constantly. Some of them she had tried, others she hadn't. She now regretted, as she had since she made the call, that she hadn't tried everything but she had been so worried about her dad. He was the only real grounded thing in her life with the exception of her job. She didn't have anyone or anything else that made her feel safe and protected. He had been one of the few constants in her life but now, he thought she was dead! She started to cry. Would she ever get to see him again? Would she make it out of this hell she'd somehow managed to step into which she couldn't fathom why she deserved?

`Sometimes bad things happen to good people.'

The memory of those words flashed in her mind from time to time without her permission and it only made her feel more helpless. If everything he said in the letter was true, then she couldn't even begin to fathom how she could escape this madman. And that's exactly how she viewed him, a madman. Who else could commit the crimes he does and not show the least bit of remorse? He killed for a living and that fact didn't seem to bother him in the least. Not only that but now he had taken her away from her life more literally than she would ever have thought possible without actually dying. What was he going to do to her? She shuddered at the multitude of possibilities. There were so many things worse than death.

That was how Lisa remained for several hours, just sitting on the floor by the desk and building up the nightmare around her. At some point, she grabbed a trash can as much for the possibility of being sick as for a weapon. She huddled into a corner of the room and didn't dare close her tiered eyes to the door in the opposite corner. She wouldn't go down without a fight, no matter what the note warned. She was not going to be his puppet or his slave.