I heard Them calling my name, trying to beckon me downstairs. I slowly rolled over, incorporating the noises into my dream and I thought no more of their calls. I was then abruptly woken up, torn out of bed before I even got the chance to stretch. A hand snaked under my stomach, raising the hairs on the back of my neck and hoisting me up out of bed. They were not amused by my passive refusal to pay mind to their commands, yet I thought this was an excessively dramatic response. I was not sure what the occasion was for my own personal wake up visit, and why none of the others had been afforded the same luxury, but whatever the cause did not seem like an emergency. I had not seen any of the others yet and They were both there but did not seem panicked nor scared, perhaps just a little on edge. I’ve never been one to get out of bed rather quickly, so my eyes remained half closed as I was swathed in my favorite blanket that one of the others had stolen the night before. My handling was more delicate than usual; my eyelids peeled back open to see Her cradling my head. She never woke me up like this; she was often too busy in the mornings to tend to me. I was glad it was Her. I was not in the mood for His callous, large hands when my morning started like this. I gave up control as I allowed myself to rest limp in Her arms and be taken downstairs.
I must have had drifted back to sleep for I was awoken by the feeling of cold metal pressed against my back. I instinctively thrashed, throwing Her off balance, only to turn my head and see Him come out of nowhere. He grabbed the back of my neck, forcing my head down and into the opening of what looked like a suitcase, where my meager, thin frame followed. The entrance to the compartment through which I had been forced was shut behind me. By now, my drowsiness had completely dissipated. I was kicking myself for not being more incredulous, especially after one of the others had been taken just last week. Why else would They have woken me up in the early morning and even more so, have called Her specifically to get me? As my anger was dissolving, it was quickly replaced with both curiosity and fear. It was not my first time in this physical situation though I always forgot about the previous times I was in there. I knew, however, that it left a loathsome taste in my mouth and was Their preferred mode of our transportation. When I first arrived at the House a few years ago, I’m sure it was by these means. I never asked why They wouldn’t let me walk, I just trusted Them and that it was worth it to not have to go back. There were a few small perforations in the walls of the enclosure and a black sheet was later put in place so I could only see darkness. The last I saw of Her face was a look of uneasiness, but I still heard Her voice telling me how to behave. I tuned Her out, furious at Her betrayal and the fact that she took advantage of our relationship for the benefit of Him.
No longer seeing and choosing not to hear anything, I was more attuned to the sudden feeling of movement. I was a small girl and I shouldn’t have been surprised that He could lift and whisk me away with such ease. It angered me as he opened a door. A blast of cold air penetrated the sheet, which froze my body but did nothing to halt my rapid breathing and the return of memories of being surrounded by ice with the others, before They found us. I was placed in a vehicle, heaving and shaking. Neither of Them directed any conversation at me until I began to cry in whimpers, disoriented and confused. I should have paid more attention when the others were telling me what little they remembered about where they were taken. They had all made it back to the House afterwards, but their demeanors had changed and they weren’t themselves. They were skittish. He said nothing but I was torn away from my thoughts as She tried to tell me a story to distract me. Her voice had lost the tranquility it once brought me and now sounded like nothing short of nails on a chalkboard. I was rustling around in the narrow, enclosed space, unable to see and barely able to breathe.
She gave up talking to me eventually, and the ride continued in silence. I could only swallow my sobs for so long as they gradually grew more deafening and ever so often, one would escape from my throat. I could sense Her blood being curdled in tension each time, the way she inhaled sharply after each mangled plea.
“She’s been ruining everything,” he said grimly in response to Her reactions, “and you just let her do whatever she wants. You care too much about how she feels about you, which is ridiculous. She isn’t your child. This has to be fixed now. She won’t even remember it.”
These harsh words in addition to the baneful combination of the movement, darkness, sobbing, and heaving caused a wave of nausea to overcome my sensitive stomach. I hadn’t eaten that day so there was nothing to release but a stream of stomach acid and partially digested dinner onto my favorite blanket that was already sticking to me with sweat. She groaned at my hacking, probably reminiscing about my identical reaction when I first stayed overnight at the House, before I had adjusted. She didn’t say anything. Fifteen minutes after marinating in my own regurgitation, the movement stopped though I still shook and my muscles ached from remaining trapped in the same position. My mind had gone blank and I was bathing in fear as the van doors opened, closed, and Their footsteps moved closer towards the back of the vehicle. With the opening of the back doors, He removed me in my own personal hell while she locked up behind Him.
He was holding the cage with one hand, His arm extended downwards and swinging with the force of my weight in an attempt to prevent my throw up from reaching Him. I coughed up a little more in his direction, hoping some would make it through the black sheet, getting on Him or soiling his clothes. I could almost see his scowl through the different shades of darkness as well as Her look coming to my defense, permitting Him from saying anything. This small pleasure was interrupted as a door opened and bells jingled, alerting me to the fact that we had arrived to a place I recognized with vague familiarity. The hyperventilation began once more as They continued to walk through another set of double doors and He used both arms to heave me up onto a platform. More cold metal.
He removed the black sheet and my eyes were stunned by the brightness. Adjusting to the light came with the realization that I was in a familiar room. Both of Them were standing with Their backs against the opposite wall, looking directly at me. She had a look of pity. He just looked disgusted. I remained quiet, crippled by uncertainty. A moment later, a strange man walked in. I attempted to look threatening as I inspected him. His coat was long and white and his silver nametag glistened, tightly fastened to his left chest pocket, but I couldn’t make out the words. He mumbled a few words and They watched, Him with little interest, as he got on his knees and opened the door of the entrapment. I saw his whole face looming in front of mine and felt his hot breath on my skin as his hand reached in, unclipping the apparatus and removing the top half of the enclosure. His fingertips brushed maliciously against my scalp. I thrust my hand out and shrieked, not wanting this stranger to touch my encrusted hair, or any part of me that was now exposed. I tried to flatten myself into the metal platform. I didn’t want anyone else to see me like this, an invalid; I had never wanted to leave the House to begin with. It was only obvious that They, including this stranger, were going to hurt me. I would rather have gone unfound than be scarred by whatever irreversible damage They were planning. I had to get out of there. I was writhing, violently shoving my way towards the opening as the stranger’s hands grabbed at my features. I had to get out of there.
The stranger pulled back, startled and frustrated. With one hand, he wedged open the door through which I could have made my escape while his other hand, grasping the back of my neck, rendered me paralyzed within the cage. His nametag fell off of his jacket in the struggle and went clattering onto the floor face up. “DR. MORGAN”. The stranger stuck his head outside. “Get some other techs in here,” he bellowed, “a certain kitty doesn’t want to get her nails cut!”