Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
I’m still so cold, though, shivering. I pull my arms through the short sleeves of my dress so I can cross them against my chest. I’m exhausted from crying, being awake for so long, and the constant stress of the unknown, but I can’t sleep because I’m too cold.
After a while, I have to pee again, so I only hold it for a short time. There’s obviously no need to be obstinate about wetting myself. It won’t change anything. I’m alone and scared. The only thing I understand about this weird place is that my jailors want me to lie on my back, pee myself, and drink from a bottle.
As soon as I wet myself, I start crying. I try to keep quiet, but I’m so emotional that it’s hard to hold back the sobs that echo throughout the warehouse.
I barely flinch when the door bangs open again. The two guards who approach me are not the ones from earlier. Considering how long I’ve been here, there’s probably been more than one shift change. After all, I have no idea how much time passed while I was knocked out.
There’s another man with the black-clad jailors. He’s wearing blue, and he’s unarmed. He also has a stethoscope around his neck, which gives me a tiny bit of relief. If he’s a doctor of some sort, maybe he’ll take pity on me. Aren’t medical personnel required to make decisions in the best interest of the patient?
Granted, just because that’s the way things were on Earth doesn’t mean these aliens follow any sort of ethical regulations.
When I fully turn my head, I notice the doctor has something tucked under his arm. I think it’s a blanket. My heart rate picks up at the thought of being given something so coveted.
As soon as one of the guards opens the cage, the doctor pulls the blanket out from under his elbow. My excitement is short-lived, though, because the guard snatches the soft-looking material from the medic and barks at him in that language I don’t understand.
The doctor rolls his eyes and sighs.
The guard shouts several more things, pointing between me, the medic, and the blanket.
Shockingly, I believe I understand. He told the doctor to check me out before he would let me have the gift of warmth. I don’t know why these men have to be so cruel. It’s not as though I could overpower any of them. They’re well over seven feet tall and proportionately larger than any human being I know of.
It’s true that I’ve never seen a human male in person. I was raised with only females, but I know from my studies that human men were about six feet tall. These Venkorians are giants.
Mortified to have wet myself, I try to pull my legs together and tug my dress down as far as possible.
The doctor lifts his brows as he holds up the stethoscope.
I nod, understanding, and he sets it on my chest over my dress. As he moves it around to several different locations, he says nothing.
Staring at him, I wait until he’s done before saying, “Can you understand me?”
He frowns. That’s a no. He holds something else against my forehead. A second later, it beeps. I think he took my temperature. The furrow in his brow is deeper as he turns toward the guard with the blanket and holds the device out. He points at the readout, his voice demanding.
I don’t understand. I don’t think I have a fever. In fact, I’m so cold that I suspect, if anything, my body temperature is too low. Maybe that’s what the medic told the guard.
I’ve never been more relieved when the doctor snatches the blanket from the guard. He hands it to me, replaces the empty bottle with a full one, and sets a clean diaper inside the entrance.
With a slightly sympathetic glance, he turns and stomps from the room.
I flinch as my cage is once again locked, and I’m left alone.
My situation has improved. I have a warm cover, a fresh diaper, and more nutrition. At least it doesn’t seem that these Venkorians intend to let me die.
THREE
Days pass. I don’t know how many because I have no way to know the passage of time. I’m so lonely. The only things I’ve done are stare at the bars above me, drink bottles, pee myself, and sleep.
Well, that’s not all, of course. Sometimes I do more than pee, and the guards hand me wipes and walk away. It’s very difficult to clean myself up since I can’t sit up. I manage. It’s gross. And it pisses me off.
I’m lethargic. I don’t bother to talk to the guards anymore. I don’t even look at them directly, and I’m grateful they don’t require it. The doctor doesn’t return. It’s just a series of guards. If I assume they’re working in three shifts per day, I’ve been here three days—longer if I count the time before I woke up, nauseous.