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)
When I hear the door opening, I don’t even flinch. I’m used to it. I could predict almost exactly when it will happen. I don’t look in that direction. I don’t need to. It’s always the same thing. A boring routine that’s driving me out of my mind.
As usual, my cage opens, but this time, instead of swapping out my used diaper and bottle for new ones, a hand settles over my stomach, making my breath hitch. I turn my head to find someone new facing me. For the first time since I woke up, the person doesn’t look like they want to murder me.
The hand is warm and comforting. His face is kind. He’s smiling.
When I inhale, I draw in his scent. It’s enticing.
I’m wrapped up like a burrito in the blanket, so he’s not touching my skin, but my entire body settles as if he’s got magic powers. Peace fills me. I stop shivering and stare at him, unable to blink.
He speaks in a soft voice, though I can’t understand him.
After a few moments, he leans in farther, wraps his hands around me, and slides me out of the cage and into his arms.
I let him. I can’t stop him. I should be freaking out. The cage is awful, but the unknown might be worse. Rava and Lyra were taken from this room, screaming.
All I manage is a whimper as the man cradles me in his arms, cups my head, and presses my cheek against his shoulder.
I’m marginally aware of two guards flanking us as the new man carries me from the warehouse. He smells so good. I have no experience being this close to a man, not even the Venkorian guards. I assume someone must have manhandled me into the cage, but I wasn’t conscious at the time.
This man is giving me no indication he means me any harm. He keeps me snuggled in the blanket as he walks down a hallway and through a door.
I wince when I see that we’re now in what looks like an exam room. It’s not too different from the medical bay on the space station. Several men in white join us. They aren’t angry like the guards.
The man cradling me is wearing a navy suit and a starched white shirt, which is open at the collar. I’ve seen pictures of men dressed similarly on Earth before its destruction. He’s being so careful about my head as he speaks to the men in white.
When I hear water running, I flinch and turn to see a tub filling. The thought of taking a bath after all the time I’ve been caged in this dress makes me moan softly, but I don’t know what this man has in mind. Will he leave me alone in here and let me bathe?
More words are exchanged, then the men in white leave the room, shutting the door behind them.
My apparent savior lowers me gently onto the exam table and begins unwrapping me.
I tremble, both from the exposure to the air and my nerves. What is his plan?
When he reaches for the hem of my dress and lifts it, I shove at his hands and shake my head.
He wraps a hand around one of my wrists and brings my fingers to his lips. I’m stunned. He kisses my knuckles and strokes his cheek with them. It’s soothing. My heart rate slows. But I still don’t want him to take my clothes off.
No man has ever seen me naked. No man has ever seen me, period. Not since I was a newborn. On the space station, we lived a modest existence. We were taught that exposing our private parts to others was inappropriate, so I’m panicking at the thought of someone undressing me.
My savior cups the top of my head with one hand while he holds my wrists against my stomach with the other. He’s smiling again as he speaks to me. I wish I could understand him, but maybe I don’t need to. The tone is all I need. It’s filled with promise.
I calm further at the rolling cadence of his voice, and I find myself letting him lift my arms above my head so he can pull my dress off.
Shivering, tears leak from the corners of my eyes. I’m embarrassed beyond belief. My breasts are exposed, and my nipples are hard points from the cold air.
I stare at this kind man while he removes my diaper, trying not to think about my nudity. He has thick brown hair and tanned skin. His eyes are deep brown, and I find myself wanting to stare into them.
My own skin is extremely pale—partly from genetics and partly from living nearly my entire life in a space station with no exposure to the sun. I know my eyes are a pretty green because my friends have commented on them many times.