Part 11 (1): I think I'm alone now.

Part Eleven:

I wasn’t in New York. I wasn’t in the diner. I was in shackles. Bound, again, and spread-eagled. And naked. Always naked. I realized all of that as I came out of a stupor. I hadn’t actually ever slept, I thought. Maybe I had. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. The diner sort of melted away, disappearing in swaths and patches and being replaced by… a cave.

I was in a cave. That’s what I realized as I woke up fully and tugged at the armbands that were holding me. My feet felt asleep and tingly and I worried about them for a moment, then decided that I couldn’t do anything about them just yet. I tried to wiggle my toes a little as I looked around.

No Doc.

No Brigitte.

I realized I was sad and confused about that, about Brigitte not being there, and tried to work through the confusion and cloudy thinking. Brigitte was… mad at me? No, I was mad at her. I kept trying to look through the gloom. I only knew I was in a cave because on one side there were rock walls and there was a rock ceiling above me. Off to my right I couldn’t see much at all. It was too dark and gloomy. My skin tingled, though, and I looked down over my body, past my naked breasts and down over my naked legs and through my wiggling toes – I was relieved to see I was wiggling them – and saw more gloom and then maybe a little patch.

Of red.

My skin was tingling and I didn’t like it.

I pulled at my left hand, but no go. I tried to lift my head more, felt a collar at my throat. I pulled at my right hand. No go, either.

Okay. So nothing I could do. Should I yell? What if someone came? It’s a pretty sure bet that whoever came would have had something to do with locking me up in the first place, tying me down. And why naked, I wondered? Why was I naked again?

I didn’t call, though. I decided to think a little more. I was trying to think of a way out, but all I kept thinking about was Brigitte and I didn’t know what to think about her. It’s like my thoughts were circling around each other, waiting to begin to fight. They just kept circling, though, never actually mixing it up.

I wished Doc was there. I tried to think what had happened. Recreate how I got here. I kept focusing on Brigitte and then tried to not focus on Brigitte. But it was no good. She was always there. In my mind, I mean, not there with me. As far as I could tell, nothing was there with me.

“Why does she keep thinking of underwear?” I heard, off to my right. So much for nothing there with me.

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