She awoke to sunlight streaming across her face. Pulling the cover over her head, she tried to bury herself back into the warmth of the scratchy linens. A memory tried to surface, shouldn't she get ready for school? Then another followed. Did she wear a uniform? What school did she go to? She couldn't recall. Bouncing out of the bed she stopped in her tracks. This was not a typical bedroom. With beakers and toxic smelling chemicals it smelled more like a rotting corpse. Odd use of words… Rounding an island in the middle of the small lab, a mirror caught her reflection. Dull limp almost black hair hung in a tight braid half way down her back. A slight clump of pimples clustered on the edge of the left jaw line. Thick, bushy eyebrows wiggled above her priecing violet eyes. Backing up a bit she was able to take in most of her body to the waist. Eyes widening she took in her breasts. "Fuck!" They were huge! Rolling up her shirt she winced at all the cuts and scars decorating her torso. Taking a peek under the massive 'bandage' over her breasts she noticed a puckered scare topping the right mound. Dropping the shirt she climbed on top of the island to look at her lower half. Skinny, dirty legs. Bare toes hardly showing from gray sweatpants a size to big. Dropping to the floor she strode over to the sink and scrubbed her face and arms clean. Grabbing a slip of soap she ran it up and down her arms, raising scabs in the process. Hissing at the slight pain, she continued the frenzied cleaning. She had to feel clean. She must feel clean. A footfall made her halt. A relatively heavy-set man strode into view. Seeing her up he beamed. Some how it put her at ease. "Ah! My dear, you're up. Come, come, you must be starving." He ushered her from the laboratory down a sparsely decorated hallway barely big enough to accommodate his wide berth. As they approached the end of the hallway the distant rumblings became louder and the smells of freshly baked bread filled the room. As her eyes became accustomed to the light, previously bleary shapes came into sharp focus. 200 assorted men filled the room. Some laughing and singing, others cramming as much food as they could into their mouths and still many others sleeping on the fringes of this boisterous society. Shoving her into a seat on a picnic style table, her guide wondered off to get her food, she supposed. Glancing about she noticed the many portholes, in the gallery and warm earth tones that made it almost homely. Portholes? Gallery? How did she know the proper names for these? "Here you go dear, a plate of Benny's best pancakes with scrambled egg chaser." Almost giddy he presented the plate to her in a flourish of movement bowing to her like a waiter in a fancy restaurant. His laughter was infectious. "Thank you." Holding a fork out to her between his thumb and forefinger he encouraged her to eat. It took her almost an hour to finish the pancakes and eggs. Through mouthfuls of his own breakfast he wouldn't let up on talking. She learned about the history of the oilrig she was on. How in 1999 Seto Kiabia of THE Kiabia Corporation built an oilrig a few hundred miles off the coast of Japan. The operation had made him a billionaire overnight. She learned how just two days ago Johnny in the crow's nest had spotted her drifting on a crate. Nothing major wrong with her, just sun burnt and dehydration they let her sleep it off. Though the coast guard had already been by and taking statements down and evidence. Although there was no word on if someone recognized her. He didn't bat an eye when she told him she couldn't remember who she was. "Don't worry about it darling' we'll take care of you." "Here, here!" Commiserated the crew.
A year and a half later….
Pulling her jacket closer, she cursed Gig's name. I should've won! She fumed. Goddamn full house. They had been betting for chores and watches. By some fluke, Gig had picked up a much need Jack to win the game. The sunrise winked over the horizon, throwing shadows over the fast approaching helicopter. Clicking on her mike, she radioed to HQ for advice. "HQ, this is crow's nest. There is a fast approaching rotary bird from the northeast. Please advise." A crackle of static fill the tense moments. "Rodger that crows nest, do not do anything until landing. Hammer is waiting for them at the landing site." "Yes, sir!" Tossing the hand mike away, she climbed down the nest. Her watch was over anyways.