roughly into a standing position and he hastily cuffs my wrists together. Oh, dear god. Some kind of gas mask is securely placed over my nose and mouth and I attempt to hold my breath, not wanting to lose consciousness again. Realising this logic is futile, I am left with no choice but to inhale, allowing myself short, shallow breaths, not sure what substance is infiltrating my lungs. The first man holds me still as the other attaches a container to my back, which looks like a bit like a fire extinguisher or small oxygen tank. It is carefully secured with straps around my waist and under my arms — my own self-sufficient breathing apparatus. My legs are efficiently taped together at both my ankles and knees and I feel myself becoming a little groggy. A warm softness enters my limbs and I go slightly limp against the man holding me upright. This warmth is actually pretty good and I feel myself relaxing. I remember this feeling from the dentist. Happy gas, nitrous oxide — it dulls sensations such as pain and makes you feel euphoric.
One of the men leaves the cabin briefly and returns wheeling a larger than average suitcase.
As if on cue I get the giggles as my mind wanders and I randomly wonder whether it would be used to cart around outfits for Paris fashion week — that is, until he opens it and I am scooped off my feet and literally folded into the awaiting piece of luggage. It’s lined with some kind of foam padding. I am aware, in a detached way, that this is not good, but as I don’t actually feel too bad, it’s difficult to decipher any of my emotions about the whole situation. I attempt to dislodge the gas mask attached to my face, pushing against the foam material, so I can think more clearly but to no avail. I am tucked into a foetal position. I attempt to scream and struggle, sensing that I should, but don’t have a strong desire to muster the energy required. My body feels warm and rather heavy, but surprisingly comfortable given the position I’m in. Either way, I can’t move and the mask stifles any sound before it can escape. I can’t believe I’m small enough to fit in a suitcase; they’d never be able to do this to Jeremy, it would have to be tailor-made!
The lid is closed, making my world once again black and if I weren’t so relaxed, I’m sure I’d be shaking violently with fear. I hear the sound of a zip closing and the suitcase is positioned upright. I’m silently thankful for the generous padding that softens my impending ride; I shudder at the thought of the bruises otherwise. The wheels are in motion and I have no idea where I’ll end up. I can’t see, I can’t hear, I can’t talk or taste or smell. What I can feel is an immobile body that is awash with relaxant. All I can do is just keep breathing.
Jeremy
I linger at the bar, aimlessly shuffling food around on my plate, ignoring everything else going on around me; my thoughts about Alex are all-consuming and endlessly disturbing. Apart from the terrifying thought that she might be hurt, I can’t stop thinking about missed opportunities, my inability to come to terms with my own feelings for her — and now, shit, I may never have the opportunity to make amends. I can’t even say whether Alexandra was ever aware of the complexity of emotion I feel for her, have always felt for her. It took me a while to admit it to myself and, once I had, I didn’t want to scare her away so I deliberately kept things light and playful between us. Ultimately, I wanted to give her the world and be the focal point of hers. But I was too driven back then, knew the path of my future differed from hers.
My younger brother suffered from serious depression, and just before my twenty-fifth birthday I found him dead in our garage. He’d gassed himself in our father’s car, which he’d locked from the inside. My world perspective changed from that moment on, my ambition fuelled by pain and the inability to provide him with the help he had so
One of the men leaves the cabin briefly and returns wheeling a larger than average suitcase.
As if on cue I get the giggles as my mind wanders and I randomly wonder whether it would be used to cart around outfits for Paris fashion week — that is, until he opens it and I am scooped off my feet and literally folded into the awaiting piece of luggage. It’s lined with some kind of foam padding. I am aware, in a detached way, that this is not good, but as I don’t actually feel too bad, it’s difficult to decipher any of my emotions about the whole situation. I attempt to dislodge the gas mask attached to my face, pushing against the foam material, so I can think more clearly but to no avail. I am tucked into a foetal position. I attempt to scream and struggle, sensing that I should, but don’t have a strong desire to muster the energy required. My body feels warm and rather heavy, but surprisingly comfortable given the position I’m in. Either way, I can’t move and the mask stifles any sound before it can escape. I can’t believe I’m small enough to fit in a suitcase; they’d never be able to do this to Jeremy, it would have to be tailor-made!
The lid is closed, making my world once again black and if I weren’t so relaxed, I’m sure I’d be shaking violently with fear. I hear the sound of a zip closing and the suitcase is positioned upright. I’m silently thankful for the generous padding that softens my impending ride; I shudder at the thought of the bruises otherwise. The wheels are in motion and I have no idea where I’ll end up. I can’t see, I can’t hear, I can’t talk or taste or smell. What I can feel is an immobile body that is awash with relaxant. All I can do is just keep breathing.
Jeremy
I linger at the bar, aimlessly shuffling food around on my plate, ignoring everything else going on around me; my thoughts about Alex are all-consuming and endlessly disturbing. Apart from the terrifying thought that she might be hurt, I can’t stop thinking about missed opportunities, my inability to come to terms with my own feelings for her — and now, shit, I may never have the opportunity to make amends. I can’t even say whether Alexandra was ever aware of the complexity of emotion I feel for her, have always felt for her. It took me a while to admit it to myself and, once I had, I didn’t want to scare her away so I deliberately kept things light and playful between us. Ultimately, I wanted to give her the world and be the focal point of hers. But I was too driven back then, knew the path of my future differed from hers.
My younger brother suffered from serious depression, and just before my twenty-fifth birthday I found him dead in our garage. He’d gassed himself in our father’s car, which he’d locked from the inside. My world perspective changed from that moment on, my ambition fuelled by pain and the inability to provide him with the help he had so
Similar Books
