Bab 9: Chapter 9: Poked and Prodded
***CHAPTER WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS THEMES OF ABUSE AND SEXUAL ASSAULT!***
I woke abruptly in a cold sweat and out of breath. How'd I get back to my dorm? I glanced over to find Lynn wide mouthed snoring. Was it all a bad dream then? Sitting up, the world was spinning, I fought the urge to vomit. I remember this feeling. The overwhelming vertigo from when I came to conciousness in the black SUV the facility captors tossed me into. I've now been tranquilized twice in the span of 24 hours, fan-fucking-tastic. So much for my health being top priority. It began to come back to me then.
After filling out the paperwork on the clipboard with an annoying amount of general health questions, I was led to a small office where I met a kind eyed older woman. Dr. Stephanie Hill she said her name was.
Her office was ordinary. Like any run of the mill doctors examination room I had ever seen. Relief washed over me that it didn't resemble the mad scientist lab I had originally expected.
Dr. Hill gave me a full work up peering into my eyes, nose, throat, and ears. Testing my reflexes by bumping my knee. She held her cold stethoscope up to my lungs and heart, pausing only to write notes of her findings in her chart. The doctor gave me a satisfied grin and pronounced that I was healthy as a horse. I shuffled off the examination table and began putting my dirty jeans back on under the hospital gown.
"That won't be necessary dear."
I knew what was coming thanks to the heads up from my roommate.
Dr. Hill motioned for the doorway at the back of the office. Then led the way down a short hall to another door labeled "DECONTAMINATION". She scanned her badge and the door opened with a hissing decompressing sound. Must be an airlock of some kind. A room between rooms. She smiled at me, though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, I saw the sincerity in them. I wasn't going to enjoy what was about to happen, and she knew it. I took little comfort in her pity though. As the door began to close, her hand caught hold of it and the sliding door reopened.
"Layla. It would be in your best interest to just do as they say. Fighting them will only make your time here unbearable. Your father would be devastated to hear you ended up in rehabilitation with your sister."
I spun around to face her. Her words hit me like a punch to the stomach. There's far too much to unpack out of that statement all at once. Before I could get a word out, the door closed swiftly and the second door behind me slid open with another hiss. I was too disoriented by Dr. Hill's statement to process the two large men in biohazard suites prowling towards me. They grabed me by each arm and pulled me further into the chamber. If the doctor meant for the info bomb she dropped to have a calming effect, she was sorely mistaken. The smaller of the two men stripped the thin gown from my body and pulled the scrunchy from my hair rather roughly, my head snapped back in response.
On instinct, I elbowed him in the stomach. The man let out a small sound than a rough short chuckle and grabbed me by the back of the neck. From behind, he forced his face next to my ear causing the sticky material of his plastic suit to cling to my naked backside.
"Oh, I like you."
He said through the foggy shield of his ridiculous looking bio suit.
"Michaels. Quit fucking around."
The other man ordered.
I let out a sharp exhale upon his release, realizing I held my breath while in his abrasive hold. I looked forward as the sound of squeaking knobs were turned. The whole chamber wasn't unlike a prison shower I had seen once in a movie. I saw then that both men were wearing military uniforms beneath their PPE.
"Army or National Guard?"
I asked crossing my arms across my naked chest, more to conseal than an act of belligerence. I was hoping to convey the latter.
They ignored the question. Each readying themselves with long handled scrub brushes and pumping what I can only assume was some kind of sterilizing agent onto the bristles from wall dispensers. The nameless one finally turned to address me.
"While the water is still warm, please."
The words more of a demand than a request.
He tilted his head toward the water in a "go on" motion. Michaels didn't afford me a moment of hesitation before grabbing my arm and forcing me under the pelting stream of scolding water raining down from the showerhead above. Who the hell pissed in this guys cheerios?
They didn't waste a moment to allow the water to soak my body before scrubbing me down. The brushes felt like sandpaper against my already agitated skin. I could only grit my teeth and place both of my hands against the wall to avoid the soldiers knocking me completely off balance. I dropped my head down to face to floor to hide the grimace surely plastered to my face. Painfully hot water ran down my hair and into my eyes and began dripping from my chin and nose. One of the men yanked me from my brace on the cold wall to fully stand. The tall nameless soldier now working my head into a rough lather from behind.
Michaels stepped in front of me, now less than a foot in front of my face. Though he was now under the direct stream of water, I could still make out the sadistic smile behind the racing water drops on his shielded face. In another setting, I could see how one may have found the soldier quite handsome. But his true nature protruded through the darkness behind his eyes. The grinning man abandoned his scrub brush on the floor. He began pumping the soapy solution onto his gloved hand and turned to face me again. I remained still as he began working the solution around my neck in slow sensual motions. He left his left hand collard around my throat, only slightly gripping. I could still breathe, but the action made my anxiety sore to new heights. Michael's then used his free right hand that was covered in suds to stroke and tease my breasts. He took his sweet time with each one, clutching the first before he began on the second. My anxiety is quickly being replaced with quivering rage.
He never broke eye contact as he ran his pointer and middle fingers down my abdomen, past my belly button, and plunged them between my legs. I gasped and jerked back but the man still working the filth out of my hair behind me didn't allow me to falter far. Michael's grip on my neck tightened and his smile became feline as his hand stayed planted between my thighs.
"Wouldn't want to miss a spot. It's our job to be extremely thorough."
He said with a wink, then plunged his two soapy fingers into me.
He's dead. HE'S SO DEAD.
Looking back I still wouldn't have done anything different. I kneed him in the groin and met his already quickly lowering face with an uppercut that would have made for a promising audition move to star in WWE. Michaels recoiled and hit his head on the wall behind him. Before he could hit the floor, I swung my head back to headbut the man working on my hair. My luck had run out there. When I missed, he placed me into a choker hold that lifted me to the tips of my toes.
I struggled, tore, and pulled at the muscled arm around my throat until I felt light headed. Then tapped my hand quickly on the soldiers bicep to signal that I give in. He again placed me on my feet as Michaels righted himself. His furious and pained expression through the water streaked shield conjured a deep satisfying feeling in my chest.
"You're going to regret that sweetheart."
he murmured past the blood gushing out of both nostrils.
"Very original."
I smirked.
"I very highly doubt that."
I said, thanking God my voice didn't waver.
The other soldier forced my head under the water again to rince his handy work from my hair. After the last of the suds swirled to the drain, they both walked away and threw me a towel. Michaels clutched my arm once the towel was secure around my body and pulled me back into the airlock chamber they had met me in. I stood in the corner as they steam bathed themselves before disguarding their space suite looking bioware.
Both now fully reviled their military uniforms
The namelss soldier wore his last name on a patch over one side of his chest. Jameson. Micheals and Jameson ushered me into the hall I last saw Dr. Hill then led me to a door straight across. A locker room it seemed to be. A pile of white clothes with a name badge on top was waiting for me on one of the wood benches in the room. Both soldiers guarded each side of the door we entered through. Neither turned their backs to me as I dropped the towel and began to dress. Jameson, at very least, gave me the courtesy of averting his eyes to the far wall. Michaels gaze tore straight through me though. Not missing an inch of my exposed skin. I dressed faster than I ever have in hopes my effort would somehow lessen what memories he would surely be saving for later. White sweatshirt. White cotton T-shirt. White sweatpants. White sports bra. White cotton panties. White non-slip socks. A thought of Ashley wearing all white and attempting to keep it stain free summoned a small breathy laugh through my nose. Ashley. Dad. The Doctor knows them. Later. I'll unpack all of that later. For now getting the fuck away from these two, ever so honorable, military men needs to be my main focus. I do hope my actions earlier in the shower stall wouldn't have me touring the rehabilitation sanction in the coming hours.
I carried on and draped the name badge attached to the lanyard around my neck. Surprised at this point they chose this method of identification verses clipping a numbered cattle tag to my ear.
I held the badge in my hand and stared down at my name and my I.D. picture. The photo was a glimpse into the past. I was heavier then. My eyes were brighter too. I still had a future. I had plans for my life, however small, but they were still mine. I had this photo taken for my passport. I couldn't wait to tour Europe. Smoke weed in Amsterdam. Drink at a beer garden in Germany. Eat waffles and chocolate in Belgium. Maybe have hot sex in an actual castle with one of the locals.
The endless list of what now seemed impossible blurred my vision. I fought the tears and continued studying my I.D.
Strange. No use of my last name. Just my first name and a four digit number underneath. "LAYLA #6912" I whispered to myself.
I sat and began to put on the white socks with the pointless grips on the bottom.
"If you're about finished, you're needed in the lab princess."
Michaels cocky stare was met with my infamous "eat shit and die" glare. I've never had to implement it as frequently as I have just in the last several hours.
I dropped the badge against my chest and carried on toward Jameson and Micheals.
"After you.."
Michaels took this opportunity to glare down at my chest for far too long, using the guise of reading my nametag.
"..Sweet Layla."
My name on his lips made my stomach turn sour. Who let this asshole be part of the facilities welcoming party.
Jameson led the way, with Michaels right on my heels. They no longer were wearing any sort of PPE. No mask, shield, or gloves. I saw, right then, the skin lesions peeking out from under Jamesons uniform at the base of his neck. It looked gnarly and sore. I wonder what symptoms these men suffer from the vaccine. Do I even give a damn? No, not really no.
I noticed we were walking towards a new door. This one labeled "SPECIMEN LABORATORY". My feet froze to the floor and Micheals bumped into me from behind and pushed me into motion again. Oh no. Oh no, oh no! There are needles in that room. My hands began to tremble, so I began to fidget with my name tag to hide my looming panic from the soldier that was no doubt studying every part of me from behind. Jameson swiped his badge and the door slid open he dissapeared into the space as I froze again. My throat began to close. My heart beating so viciously that I feared I'd passout even before the first sighting of what I feared most that lay ahead in that room.
"Let's go! Or have you forgotten how to use those beautiful legs?"
I turned to him. I'm not sure what he saw in my facial features but it led him to rest his hand on the holstered gun resting on his hip. One eyebrow raised in uncertainty.
"Let's not get any adorable idea's out here sweetheart. We're on camera now. Unless you want to take a stroll back to decontamination and finish what we started in there without an audience?"
I'm not sure what came over me. Or maybe I do. I spit right in his face then slipped under his arm to break into a full sprint. I didn't make it 10 feet before a pop noise sounded and a stinging sensation hit me directly in my shoulder. Then another pop and sting in my left buttock. Everything whirled like I was on a bad carnival ride. I went to grab the wall and missed. Pain flared into my knees, then the side of my face. I couldn't move. I heard footsteps and felt a presence close in over my prone body.
"There, see, gentel as a butterfly now."
The world faded to black.
I sat in bed. Resting my head on my knees, remembering it all, I let out a soft sob. I clutched my arms around my legs and realized my right arm was sore and bandaged. I took off the medical tape and the cottonball that was stuck to the inside of my elbow. A needle mark. Maybe being put under for everything that happened in that lab was a small mercy. But why am I in my room now? How didn't I end up in their ominous rehabilitation. Wait. The Doctor mentioned my sister ended up there. Oh God, Ashley. What have you done. Something I would be proud of no doubt. I couldn't fight the tears this time as they burned my eyes and crawled down my face. Never before have I felt this helpless.
Dad...The doctor mentioned Dad. I squeezed my eyes tight in an attempt to pull Dr. Stephanie Hill's words out of my still half sedated mind.
"Your father would be devastated to hear you ended up in rehabilitation with your sister."
She had said. He's alive. My dad is alive! He knows we're here!
Another soft sob escaped at the sudden epiphany. I laid my head back on the pillow and pulled the blankets over my shoulders. Sleep found me quickly. My last coherent thought washed over me with a warm moment of peace.
Dad is coming to get us.
— Bab baru akan segera rilis — Tulis ulasan
Status Power Mingguan
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Power 
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