Chapter 2

A wrist at an awkward angle greeted her vision when she opened her eyes, a problem fixed easily enough. She straightened it without thinking, stretching it out against the smooth tile until her palm lay flat against the blue-and-white pattern. She drummed her fingers reflexively, a typist's idle habit, checking for sensation and finding there was none. The fingers moved, the tile thrummed, and nothing registered outside of what her eyes told her was happening.

"Ah, she's awake," chirped a female voice to her left.

"In a manner of speaking," a male voice deadpanned from her left, following his statement with a long sigh. "Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy."

"He feels very bad about it," chirped the woman. Young girl? The voice was high, and she wasn't sure how much more "awake" she wanted to show herself to be at the moment.

"I'm sure he does," said the deadpan voice in reply. "Dumpster diving. What was he thinking?"

"He wasn't thinking. Obviously." A husky female voice joined the chorus, the sarcastic tones adding nothing good to the building dum-dum-dum-dum in her brain. Maybe now would be a good time to sit up.

Or not. According to her eyes, she was pushing up from her wrist. Gravity seemed a bit strong, though, because nothing was happening here. Wherever here was. Expanding her gaze past the tile surrounding her wrist was proving difficult. The tile stretched on briefly to a brown wood border strip, and then there was … nothing, really. A thick blackness lay outside the square tile corners, not so much dark as deliberately unlit.

"I do believe she is trying to get up," observed her deadpan voice, tinged with an undercurrent of southern bemusement. "Shall we stay and watch?"

"Boring," chimed Ms. Sarcasm. "We'll have to deal with her soon enough. Why not eat first?"

A general murmur of assent seemed to imply a greater audience than just the speakers. She tried to make them out, to sit up, to see beyond the patterned tiles, and just when she thought maybe there was progress, that maybe she could move, the lights went out as the high voice chirped, "Nighty-night, don't let the bed bugs bite!"

"Or Edward," came the deadpan, followed by laughter and the distinctive snick-click of a lock.

Many thanks to Project Team Beta for edits, and special thanks and appreciation to all who read! I love to see traffic, reviews, and feedback.