Is that normal?
I couldn't remember how it had looked before and my pulse raced as I wondered if it was some kind of sign of something being wrong with me. Or maybe I was just being paranoid.
I paced back into the main room and ran my tongue back and forth along the roof of my mouth. I was probably just a little dehydrated. Fatigue hit me again and I lay back down on the bed as a frown pulled at my brow.
Why am I so tired all the time?
***
I was fairly sure it was the desperate pleas of my stomach that roused me the next time I woke. The table now held a glass of milk and a large sandwich. At least it didn't matter that it was cold. Maybe someone had been listening to my request.
I shoved myself out of bed and practically inhaled the sandwich, groaning as the food slid down into my belly. My stomach was placated but I could have eaten twice as much and I was half tempted to lick the plate clean.
“Can I have any more?" I asked the same camera hopefully.
I paced the room again for a while, waiting for a response, but none came.
I wandered into the wash room to have another shower and saw a nice new tracksuit waiting for me. Things were looking up.
I let the shower go on until the water ran cold then brushed my hair until it was practically dry. I examined the brush again but this time there was nothing abnormal about the amount of hair I found there. I glared at it as if it might contradict me and finally placed it down when I was confident it wouldn’t.
The new tracksuit felt soft against my skin as I wandered back to the main room and I tried to focus on that. Every little positive had to be a good sign.
Unfortunately I was wide awake and out of things to do. On the plus side, a new sandwich awaited me so maybe someone really was listening to me.
“Thank you,” I said to my mystery sandwich source, tucking in eagerly with the slightly uneasy feeling of knowing someone had been in the room whilst I was naked next door. I downed the milk and started up my pacing again.
The hairbrush taunted me from the washroom and I threw scowls at it intermittently.
“Would it be too much bother to get some entertainment? Something to read, or a TV, or a crossword puzzle even?" I was starting to build up a picture of a friendly helper sitting and watching me somewhere and decided it wouldn't hurt to be polite.
"Please?" I added. I was going to ignore the fact that my tongue felt chalky again.
A wave of dizziness swept over me and I sat down on the bed, in moments I felt myself falling unconscious and I fought against the feeling uselessly as I sagged back against the pillows.
"The milk..." I realised, a moment before the blackness took over.
***
There was an itch inside my right elbow. I sat in my bed as I ran my fingers over the tender skin and on inspection I found a small puncture hole.
My lips parted in surprise and I pulled my arm up as close to my face as I could get it. It was a little hole, the blood had congealed to fill it, but how did it get there? My mind instantly filled with images of bugs crawling out of it like in some gross horror movie.
I shuddered as I fought my overactive imagination aside and tried to think logically. Not some bug hole. It looked like the mark left by a needle.
“So you're drugging me and stealing my blood?” I asked the camera tersely. “You know I'm happy to cooperate, you don't need to do that."
I looked around. There were three sandwiches on the plate this time and a book next to it.
The hairbrush mocked me from its perch on the sink but I wasn’t going to acknowledge it.
I took my time with the sandwiches, pushed the milk aside, and spent the rest of the day reading
. The book was a soppy romance novel with a dreadfully pathetic leading lady who seemed willing to undergo any humiliation for a chance with a guy who didn't seem to care about her one bit.
Eventually, I couldn't stand it any longer.
“Not to be fussy, but this," I waved the offending book towards the camera, "is trash. Could we try for something a bit more interesting next time? Please?" I grinned up at the camera hopefully.