"Stay for as long as you have time so the mess that we'll become leaves something to talk about."-Panic! at the Disco (Casual Affair)

Chapter One

I was quite used to not sleeping well enough. I was always fatigued and if I could, I would pump caffeine in my veins so that I could make it through the day. So it came as a surprise to me when I woke up in a warm bed that hugged my every , my bed seemed to want to push me out of it. My mind didn't scream to retreat back to the safety of sleep and my eyebrows furrowed at the foreign feeling. I was well rested and it was very unsettling. As my eyes cleared and I was able to process everything, I started to panic. A good night's sleep wasn't the only thing that was odd; I was in a completely different place than my own apartment. The last thing I remembered was returning home and feeding my fish before shuffling into my small, but comfortable bed. It took a few hours for me to finally fall asleep after closing my eyes. I was not in my own bed or even my own room.

The room that I was currently in was painted a rather dark gray and the light that was on the ceiling was on, but it didn't give off a lot of light. There was a door directly ahead of me and a door to my left, both the same shade of gray as the walls that surrounded me. The bed was completely white and I was almost sure that most of the lighting in the room came from the blanket that covered my body. Other than the bed, there was no other form of furniture around the room and it made me nervous. A lump that was impossibly to swallow formed in the middle of my throat and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. My fingers twitched slightly as I shifted the blanket to the other side of the bed and stepped onto the black carpet. Where was I? Why was I here?

I walked towards the door that was previously on my left and my fingers trembled as they touched the cold doorknob. I turned the knob and pushed the door opening, gasping when a rather white bathroom greeted me. Nothing seemed out of place. It had a sink, toilet, and a shower, but no mirror that I could look into. There was nameless shampoo and soap in the shower with a scrub hanging from the shower head. It seemed like someone was supposed to live here and I hoped that it was just a big mistake that I somehow ended up here. I quietly shuffled out of the bathroom and back into the room I awoke in, crossing my arms over my chest when I noticed how cold it was. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as I walked towards the remaining door, my whole body shaking as I pushed it open.

It was a small living room with no television or any sort of electronics. The walls were white, the floor was some type of dark wood, and there was a black couch and a coffee table. It was almost frightening to see such a bland atmosphere. There was a bookshelf with no books, magazines, or any type of reading material on it. Everything was blank. The only sound I could here was coming from my labored breathing. Fear was the only emotion that I could currently process besides the need to escape whatever position that I was currently in. Everything screamed that I was supposed to be isolated with only the necessary needs at my disposal. I felt isolated and scared.

"Hello?" I shouted. "Is anyone here?"

I screamed when a response came in the form of a loud knocking coming through one of the walls. My body tensed as a part of the wall in the far left of the room slid open and a group of men walked through it. Most of the men looked like guards and they wore all black. Everything from their shoes, bulletproof vests, to their guns were black. They didn't look at me but I knew if I stepped out of my boundaries with them, I'd end up shot and in some ditch somewhere outside Washington. But the man in the very front was different. He seemed so at ease as he smiled at me, his hand reaching out as if to shake mine. He wore a crisp, dark gray suit with a blue tie that almost made him blend in with the surroundings of the room we were in. He was definitely becoming elderly because his blonde hair was beginning to gray around his ears. His face and the area around his blue eyes were wrinkled.

"Miss Jackson, it is a pleasure to meet you," he stated. I jumped at the sound of his voice and crossed my arms tighter over my chest, refusing to shake his hand. The hand dropped towards his side after a moment after my refusal was noted.

"Why am I here?" I asked. His eyes lost a touch of their warmth at my question and my lack of manners. But I felt like it was acceptable to be a little on edge at the moment.

"It seems that you are not one for pleasantries, Miss Jackson. I'm not sure if that is a good things or a bad thing." He shoved his hands into his pockets and eyed me, my body filled with tension. I felt as if I could spring away from the group of men in front of me. "My name, Miss Jackson, is Alexander Pierce. I am with an organization that is seeking to bring back order to the world. We are making sure that people are protected from others that are wanting to restrict the freedom that people deserve."

"Forgive me, but I don't see what that has to do with me," I told.

"It has everything to do with you, presently, Miss Jackson," he replied. "You have been specifically chosen to…aid one of our special agents during his off time."

"I don't ever recall applying for another job, Mr. Pierce. Especially one that secretly relocates me to a place I'm not familiar with. I do believe that's called kidnapping, not job advancement."

"You are right, Miss Jackson. You were kidnapped."

I felt my heartbeat speed up at his words and the way he said them as if he were talking about the weather. He didn't even seem to care about the effect that they had one me. My eyes were darting across the room and my breathing was quick. I needed to get out of here. One of the men in black handed Alexander Peirce a small folder, which he quickly opened.

"Stella Kate Jackson, female. You are twenty-five years old with no siblings and no parents after they died in a car crash six years ago, apparently caused by a drunk driver. You graduated high school with a rather average grade point average and started working at the Martha Public Library shortly after. You buy two romance novels per month and were diagnosed with infertility three years ago," he read.

"How did you know all of that?" I demanded.

"Honestly, Miss Jackson, we have been tracking you for quite some time. Which is why you are here now." He gave the folder back to the man behind him and looked at me. "You have no ties to anyone important, your absence will not be noted, and there is no way that you could possibly get pregnant."

"What does my infertility have to do with any of this shit that you want me to do?" My voice began to get louder and I was more afraid of what could be done to me than anything else. "Why am I here?"

"You're here, Miss Jackson, to relieve a part of your childhood. You're here to play house with a playmate that doesn't really play well with others. He's a bit….aggressive. You are going to feed him, make sure he sleeps, eats, and gets everything he could possibly need," he told. I gulped as I realized what he was implying.

"Why should that involve my inability to get pregnant?" I stammered.

"Because he is a man after all, Miss Jackson. As much as we value his work and how it aids our mission, we would rather not have to deal with any children he could possibly have," Alexander insisted. "I think it would be in his best interest have something to release his extra aggression that he may not be able to get rid of during his missions. Your infertility will make sure that his sexual needs are met but that there aren't any children that get in the way of things."

"I was hoping to save myself for my husband."

"Well, you can think of him as a short-term husband if it eases your mind. No one has to know what will happen here, Miss Jackson."

"Are you saying that I will be released?"

"Eventually, perhaps, if you do what you are asked and behave. But we can't always get what we want." I hated this man so much that I felt my hands shaking, wanting to hurt him in some way. "If you are defiant, then you will be put down."

"You can't do this to me! You're talking about rape! You kidnapped me! This is all illegal!" I shouted.

"Miss Jackson, what is legal doesn't matter to me. It would be best for you to know that I am the government and what you think should apply in this situation does not," he dictated. "You will do as I say and what is asked of you. Anything else will result in mental and physical pain in almost every way you could imagine possible. It would be in your best interest if you would behave accordingly.

He turned around and ignored my pleading to be released. The wall closed and I ran to it, my fists beating on it as cried for help. But there wasn't even a sign of where the wall had turned into a door at all. I was stuck with a vague idea of why I was here, but the feeling of fear coated my body and threatened to drown me. I sank into the floor and cried into my knees. I didn't know how long it had been since they put me here and I was even more afraid at the thought that I didn't know how long it would be until I was released from this room. I was afraid of Alexander Pierce. I was afraid of this room. I was afraid of the man who I had to aid, whoever he was.