I looked at myself in the mirror and turned my head to get a look at my scalp. I ran my fingers through my brunette curls and let them fall flat again. A single hair came loose and landed in the sink. I stared at it for several seconds before turning my attention back to my reflection. I reached up and took hold of a lock of my hair. Steeling myself, I tugged on it. It didn't fall out, not a single strand. I laughed shakily, sank down onto the bed and crawled back under the covers.
The table had another glass of milk and a cold soup on it this time. I drained the milk again but I wasn't going to lower myself to eating cold soup. My stomach growled in protest but I held firm.
"Can I have something hot?" I looked directly at one of the camera lenses. No response.
My mouth felt dry, chalky. I moved to the washroom and peered into the mirror. I caught hold of my tongue and pulled it out for inspection. It looked bumpy and a little white.
I couldn't remember how it had looked before. 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.
I was fairly sure it was the desperate pleas of my stomach that had roused me. 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 practically inhaled the sandwich. My stomach was placated but I could have eaten twice as much.
"Can I have any more?" I asked the same camera.
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 the amount of hair I found there. I glared at it as if it might contradict me.
The new tracksuit felt soft against my skin as I wandered back to the main room. Unfortunately I was wide awake and out of things to do. On the plus side, a new sandwich awaited me. I tucked 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.
The hairbrush taunted me from the washroom.
"Would it be too much bother to get some entertainment? Some books, 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 would 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.
"The milk." I realised, as the blackness took over.
There was an itching inside my right elbow. On inspection I found a small puncture hole.
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 filled with images of bugs crawling out of it.
I shuddered. No. It looked like the mark left by a needle.
"So you're drugging me and stealing my blood? 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.
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.
Not feeling like pushing on with the book, I took another shower and drank the water rather than the tainted milk. I didn't brush my hair.
I finished the book with a scowl and tossed it down on the table. With nothing else to do, I lay back and slept.
I strode across the room and knocked the hairbrush off of the sink. It clattered noisily and a few hairs were knocked loose. They challenged me from the tiled floor. I turned on my heal and returned to the main room to inspect the new deliveries.
This time there was a new book on the table with the sandwiches and a small chocolate muffin. I devoured the sandwiches but kept the muffin for later, repeated my shower-drink to avoid the milk and had a look at the book. It was the follow-up to the book I'd read yesterday. Awful, awful, awful.
"Karen was miserable," I read aloud. "She had given up all of her friends, fallen out with her family and changed her job just to keep Eunice happy, but he still hadn't stayed with her. She reached for the phone. Begging hadn't worked yet but she had only tried a few times-" The suction noise from the door seal made me stop mid-terrible-sentence.
A woman walked in, she had long yellow-blonde hair pulled back tightly behind her head in a harsh ponytail and wore a figure-hugging, powder blue power suit. She was followed by a young man with round glasses who was carrying two chairs. I didn't recognise him but she was familiar somehow.