Time moved so slowly that it was almost as if it hadn't moved at all, a frozen dimension no mortal would dare to shatter. Horatia counted the seconds, lingered in the blank spaces between them, hoped for the minutes to take their place, and screamed on the inside. Everything was upside down.
She read the same passages repeatedly, eyes drifting on occasions to where she believed the invisible cameras to be. She imagined the men monitoring them, their cold and calculating visages, their brainwashed yellow teeth programmed to spew the Super Patriarchy's ideals whenever asked upon, and what they would do to her if they all came rushing in for a coordinated assault.
Were they enjoying the show or just disappointed? Perhaps she hadn't fought as valiantly as they hoped. Perhaps they were waiting for another display of bold stupidity to punish her. Perhaps...
Too many considerations, too many hypotheses, not a single certainty. Being trapped inside that place caused her mind to race, yet she had to remain strong. She would not play their deviant games no matter how much they pushed her around.
When she laid down the book, only half an hour had elapsed. Tired, she stretched herself on the bed, and allowed her eyes to close. Happy memories came bubbling to the surface as her consciousness sank into a half-dreamy state.
She remembered the day she met Alex when he was nothing but a scrawny kid with too many holes in his mouth where there should have been teeth. It was a fortuitous encounter inside a packed supermarket, the first of many in three months. He had lost his way amidst the vast rows of artificial canned food, his expression locked in a disparaging mix of fear and bewilderment. She, on the other hand, was exploring with all the freedom and imagination a six-year-old is supposed to have. The candy section was her queendom, and her authority unchallenged.
When their eyes met, she was reaching for the third shelf to get a hold of yet another package of chocolate spirals. The two-dimensional dark brown logo against the vivid orange plastic was static, devoid of life, yet even then she knew how to make it spin. He smiled as she played with the package and then lowered his head almost as if trying to peek under her skirt.
"I did not do that!" He protested. "I would never do that!"
The memory shifted, the dream grew up. They were in her house now, alone in her bedroom, ten years later. It was her birthday, and he had just tracked down one of those old chocolate delicacies to sweeten her day. She was more interested in sugar-coating his thoughts though.
"No?" she teased, spreading her legs on the bed. "You're doing it right now. You're looking under my skirt, silly boy!"
"You're not even wearing a skirt!" He said.
"I am and it's black as night, a void into which your eyes can't help but wander or perhaps it's freshly cut green like the grass in the garden outside, a sweet aroma that lulls you in. Shall I mow your thoughts, my dear? Perhaps you want it to be blue, the promise of an endless ocean for your lips to bathe, or red, alluring and addictive red that reminds you of my lips and how a kiss from me makes you feel all wet and tingly. What will it be, Alex? What color is the skirt I'm wearing right now?"
"It's... hmmm... It's..." he looked at her white, tight-fitting pants. "Oh, damn it, you're messing with my mind again!"
"Poor innocent me?" Horatia rejoiced as she bit a spiral into oblivion. "What do I know about things like that? And besides, do you even have a mind I can mess with?"
"I..."
"I think you don't. I think you're mindless whenever I want you to be. I think you're mindless right now. You love being mindless for me. Dominance is feminine, submission is..."
"R..." He muttered.
"The word you want is Goddess, pet."
"Goddess, please don't..."
"Okay, what's wrong?" She reeled him in.
"Huh?"
"You're fighting me today and you don't do that unless something else is troubling you. What's wrong?"
The memory shifted again, the dream turned into something else. Darkness spread from the half-open windows to the far edge of the bedroom. Nightmarish blue veins pulsated in the walls, two heartbeats echoed above their heads. They had always beaten in unison, yet one was growing fainter.
"I'm going to die," Alex said, shaky hands falling on her lap.
"We're all going to die someday."
"I'm going to die today, Horatia, and there's nothing you can do about it."
"That's not funny."
"I know it's not, but I told you. I told you something bad would happen and now the pieces are in motion. You already killed me and you will pay the price."
She pushed him away, shocked at how insubstantial he had become. "Stop this, you hear? Your Goddess commands you to stop."
"I wish I could..." he sighed, a single crimson line drawn around his neck. He stumbled by the nearest window and fell, blank stare facing perpetual oblivion. Horatia shrieked.
Her eyes opened to the unwanted confinement, the vivid nightmare still rippling across her neural pathways. It was a strong imprint, not so different from the ones she liked to conjure when she engaged in memory play with Alex. It was also more disturbing than anything else she had seen that day.
"What the... Did they plant this somehow?" Horatia mumbled, paranoia taking over. She rolled on the bed, fighting the tears from falling. "Don't let them see you like this. Don't let them see you like..."
Footsteps. An alarm. Heinous orders barked outside. The division had always been soundproof until then and now a cacophony of sounds hammered at the door. It was a contradiction, a sign. She was still dreaming.
Horatia opened her eyes again. The room remained the same, inviting yet illusionary. Wells' book laid, forgotten, at the foot of the bed, its words no longer appealing. All images of despair were fading.
"This game is far from over. I can still turn the board my way," she thought.
How remained a mystery but at least the deadline was drawing to a close. She adjusted herself to a more comfortable, confident position, and waited.
When the door opened again, there was no madman in a wheelchair to greet her, only a cold-blooded woman instead. Karla wasn't subtle about her arrival, and even less so when declaring her intentions. That was not her style. In certain ways, the two women were more alike than they would care to admit.
"Come with me," the henchwoman ordered.
"Now that I'm enjoying being here?" Horatia sniggered, peeking behind her to see if anyone else was coming. "Are you my only escort? That's disappointing."
"I need no one else present to deal with the likes of you," Karla retorted. "Move along."
Horatia ignored her, lingering in bed for a while longer, both hands behind her head.
"Wow, you're full of yourself, aren't you?"
