Time ticks by. My headache never lets up. I know why. I’m so thirsty. Besides the fact that I have no idea how long I’ve been gone from the space station, the drugs they injected me with might also be contributing to my thirst.
And my headache.
I’m alone. No one is left. The room is so quiet. I can hear myself breathing. My heart seems loud. My teeth are chattering—the clicking sounds like rapid typing in the silence.
When I think I can manage to sit upright without vomiting, I do so. I rise onto my knees and try to see my surroundings, moving around my suspended cage, craning my neck in every direction.
Where is everyone? Why have they all been taken, leaving me behind?
I don’t even know if I should be grateful to be the last woman in this hell. Maybe wherever the others have been taken is a fate worse than this cage.
I think back to the girls who disappeared from the space station before me: Adryn, Isla, Luna, Leah… There were more, including Lyra and Rava. Are they alive or dead?
Unfortunately, I’ve read some books about aliens. Fiction meant to depict beings who are not real. No one on Earth had ever truly spotted an alien.
The aliens in books were usually blue with strange, hugeheads, long necks, big eyes, and webbed hands and feet. Sometimes they had tentacles or multiple arms. I’ve never read about aliens who looked like super-large human males. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of human men. They weren’t this big.
It’s been a long time since anyone came into this warehouse. No more girls from the space station have arrived, but neither have any of the guards. I’ve lost sense of time. There are no windows, so I don’t have a clue whether it’s day or night. I don’t even know if I’m on another ship or on a planet.
What I do know is that I won’t risk speaking, and I have to pee worse than ever. I have two options: wet myself or put the diaper on. I’ll still be peeing myself if I wear it, but at least the absorbent material will keep me from sitting in a puddle of my own urine in this cage.
I have another problem: What if someone walks in while I’m removing my panties or putting on the diaper? I’d be mortified. But it can’t be helped.
Eventually, I reach under my dress and pull my panties to my knees. Next, I lie on my back to shrug them the rest of the way off. I’m shaking as I tuck the diaper under my hips, bring it between my legs, and fasten it.
It’s extremely thick, much more than I anticipated. I can’t close my legs. The material is forcing my thighs to remain wide.
While staring at the top of the cage, I try to relax my bladder. It’s not easy. I haven’t peed in this position since I was an infant. I could sit up, but that seems like it would be worse. Icky.
Finally, I inhale deeply and release my bladder. I have to go so badly that it seems I’ll never stop. When I finally do, I’m relieved, but also faced with a new problem: I’m wearing a soaking wet diaper.
It’s disgusting. I want it off. What if I need to pee again? Will someone bring me another one? I can’t predict the future, but I refuse to lie here soaking in my urine, so I rip off thetabs, pull the hateful diaper away, and quickly put my panties back on.
There will be no replacing it. The tape was ruined when I removed the tabs. If I need to go again, I’ll be stuck. I find myself wondering how absorbent the material is? Could I squat over it and let it soak up my urine each time I need to pee?
My humiliation is real.
TWO
I’m so cold. I keep my knees tucked under my dress and hold them against my chest, with my arms wrapped around my shins. I wish I had a sweater. Goosebumps are my new permanent feature. That and my teeth chattering.
I’ve stared at the stupid bottle for a long time. Part of me is determined to hold out and not eat. Perhaps a hunger strike will get me attention. At this point, even negative attention would be better than sitting here, hour after hour, in silence.
But no one comes. My stomach hurts. Even if the contents of the bottle are poison, I have to take my chances. I’m still determined not to be treated like an infant, so when I pick up the bottle, I try to twist the top off. At least I can drink the contents without sucking through a nipple.
No such luck. I can’t remove the top. Either it doesn’t come off, or it’s attached in a way I don’t understand. I want to scream in frustration.
I stare at it while holding it in front of me. I have no idea what it might taste like, but I’m way past desperate. At this point, I don’t even care if I die. So I bring the nipple to my mouth and suck.
I’m shocked to discover that it’s good.Reallygood. And I suck harder. I’m so hungry and thirsty that I can’t stop. I don’t even pause when the sound of a door opening comes from across the room, and two giant guards stride toward me at a rapid pace.
Worried they might take the bottle away from me, I swallow faster. But I’m not quick enough. I’ve only drank about a third of it when one man opens my cage. He immediately reaches in and yanks the bottle out of my hands.
Tears well in my eyes. I have no idea what I’ve done to displease these aliens, but they’re scowling, so I know I have.
They take turns shouting at me, but I can’t comprehend a word. All I can do is try to understand their hand gestures as they point toward the diaper and the bottom of the cage.
I’m sobbing now. “I don’t know what you want,” I argue to no avail.
