Chapter 8
Eventually, I woke up. I didn’t know how long I’d been asleep, so I reached for the pocket of my vest and searched for my phone, only to find it gone.
The pee on my panties and legs had started to cool, so I must have been out for a while.
Slowly, I looked around. I found that I was still in the same strangely empty building I remembered.
Mr. Carter was sitting on a chair, drinking milk from a tall glass, surrounded by guards with cattle prods dressed in the same white jumpsuits I saw on the packing plant workers.
There were four of them and Mr. Hill leaned, arms on his open legs, looking down at me.
His suit jacket was hanging on the back of his chair, and his tie had been removed.
He had opened the first button of his shirt, and there were just a few strands of his blond hair out of place.
I was terrified, but he was still handsome.
I was ashamed for thinking it considering he ambushed me.
He continued to list all my personal information. I had no idea how he had gotten any of it, let alone all of it. It was clear that my cover had been blown, if it ever worked in the first place. Perhaps they knew from the start who I was and lured me there on purpose. Dread rippled through me.
They wouldn’t have shocked me if they planned to turn me in to the police.
They could’ve just detained me until the cops arrived.
Considering the current situation, they clearly didn’t plan on cutting me loose; I could report them for aggravated assault.
That meant there weren’t many options left.
I pushed myself up. Carter stopped as he was reciting my social security number.
“That’s you, isn’t it?” he asked when he saw me standing. “Your background was a little harder to track than most, but not by much.”
I placed my hands in front of myself and refused to answer, looking around and wondering if I could make a run for the door past the guards.
A vain hope. I was many things, but I wasn’t fast. My chances of escaping by running were null, even before I considered the tall fence around the whole facility.
Carter did not take my silence well. He made a gesture and one of the guards stepped in and shocked me with the cattle prod. I collapsed to the floor with a yelp.
Even after the prod was pulled away, I was left shivering in my own terror and pain.
I couldn’t remember a moment in my life when I felt more humiliated or vulnerable.
I was helpless to fight these men. I wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t enough, and I could only blame myself for coming in here thinking I had it all under control.
I sobbed uncontrollably. Carter didn’t even seem to have a shred of mercy.
“Enough with the crying, it won’t help you,” he said with clinical indifference. “I want you to undress.”
I froze in place, lifting my head incredulously to look into his bright blue eyes.
I expected to find them full of sadistic pleasure or cruelty, or some sort of twisted lust. What I found instead was more terrifying than any of that.
They were empty. His face betrayed no emotion; there was no sign of anger or his warmth shown before.
He didn’t look at me with pity, or lust, or rage, or disgust. He looked at me like one might look at the tiles on the bathroom wall while taking an absent-minded shit. It barely seemed like he saw me.
“W-what? No! I won’t!” I said firmly, or the closest thing to firm that I could manage.
Carter gestured again. The guard standing next to me jabbed the prod into the side of my thigh and pressed the button.
Electricity arched through my veins, and my back pushed out, my legs spammed and kicked as I felt my whole body vibrate.
I cried out in pain, but just for a second before my throat contracted too much from the shock.
If I hadn’t peed already, I would’ve pissed myself again for sure.
When the shock stopped coursing through me, I still felt aftershocks.
“Let me rephrase my request, Miss Thompson. Actually, do you mind if I call you Tiffany?” he asked and didn’t wait for an answer.
“Well, Tiffany, you’re filthy. You are an absolute piss-soaked mess.
Urine, dirt, and floor grime coat you. Your clothes are especially bad. So, let’s start by you undressing.”
He wasn’t kidding, and I knew he wouldn’t relent. Refusing to do what he ordered would only get me shocked again. And again.
No matter how brave a face I put on, the end result would still be the same; I would end up doing what he wanted.
I would crack, sooner or later. Jason would miss me eventually, realizing I hadn’t reached out.
Hopefully, he’d call the police to look for me.
But I doubted I could endure shocks until that happened.
For now, my only option was to play along.
I lifted myself to my knees and pushed out the sleeves of my dress as I sobbed.
I allowed one and then another to slide off my shoulders, exposing more of my vitiligo spots as I did so.
The last time I undressed in front of a man, he said I looked like a cow on his farm before walking out on me.
That memory haunted me for years. Slowly, despite my better judgment, I looked up at Carter.
His gaze was focused on my spots. The ones across my chest, my shoulders, and over the top of my breasts.
I didn’t know what was going on behind those soulless eyes, but I saw the faint smirk at the edge of his lips.
“You-You won’t get away with this,” I said, even as I continued to push my dress off, exposing both of my breasts fully.
My ‘fat cow tits’, as the boy I had a crush on had so kindly described when I was young.
“People know I’m here. Th-they will call the p-police and y-you’ll have to answer for this. ”
“The police, huh?” Carter said, not impressed as he leaned back in the chair. He took another sip from his glass of milk and shook his head slowly.
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he drank large gulps. He let out a loud and satisfied ‘ah’ after, licking his lips. Then he turned to me, raising his eyebrow in mild surprise.
“Oh, wait, you’re serious?” he said, almost in disbelief. “You truly have no idea of what’s going on, huh? Yet, you walked here all the same…”