CONFLICTED

Chapter 39| Hard to get

Chapter 39: Hard to get

Tracy

My eyelids fluttered open after leisurely blinking through the blur and a pink room stared back accusingly at my flattened position on the comfy bed.

Lying face-down on the springy material with a white tucked in bedspread and a pink furry duvet that covered me only partially, I tore my eyes away from my body on to the rest of the room.

The lightbulbs sharpened the features of the room, making it seem like daybreak but I could tell it wasn't. Then I brought my palm to my face and rubbed my eyes, the only movement I've made so far.

I still felt sleepy like I'd been heavily sedated but something deterred me from going back to sleep and that something made me extremely uncomfortable. My bushed self, however, couldn't pinpoint what it was yet.

did my brain just tell me I'm in a pink room?

With pulses suddenly accelerating, I turned and sat up on the bed just as a dull ache hit me on the head, objecting to my zippy movement. I clutched my skull and let out a groan. My stomach groaned along, signifying it's thirst for food and even my throat felt awfully dried up.

how did I get here? What happened to me?

The awful ache cut down it's hatred for my head a bit and I scrambled around my tiny memory for a recollection of how I got here. Momentarily, I remembered leaving for Christopher's place for a sleepover and the T or D game that ensued with the curiosity of my dad satisfied in the game.

just wait till I get my hands on your bloody self.

I concluded this was the guest room I'd been assigned to for the night, but why Chioma wasn't here freaked me the hell out.

oh wait, I'm not surprised.

I should've known the traitor I had for a friend would ditch me to cruise with her new acquaintances overnight.

Gazing down on myself, my eyebrows practically kissed each other when I realized I was in my pajamas. Shouldn't be surprising that I'd don pajamas to bed but I couldn't recall changing out of yesterday's outfit. Never have I been so confused my entire life. I couldn't have been drowsy enough to forget how I got to bed or got changed, could I?

I began to get paranoid at the possibilities running through my head. Had I been abducted? Raped? Had my mom been called for a ransom when she was, pun intended, in Brokelyn?

oh yeah, right. A rapist or abductor would definitely change you and tuck you into bed. Subbie chirped in sarcasm.

Shrugging off the thoughts, I decided I needed to use the restroom. I helped myself down from the knee-high bed and padded gingerly to a door at the other end of the room while holding the sides of my skull, afraid my head might fall off if I walked any faster. Then I pushed open the glassy door and the toilet I discovered made me marvel.

If my memories were in check, I didn't have a bathtub in my bathroom at home, and seeing that I had one all to myself for today made me jump in excitement.

The bathroom was equally pink themed and the neon color made me want to throw up. I just never liked pink. There was a basin, a mirror that casted my zombish look, the water cistern, a tub, a shower head, and other inhabited materials like a bottle of liquid soap, tissue holder, toilet brush and all.

My swollen bladder reminded me of my urgent mission and I quickly rushed to the WC to ease the threat. Pulling down my bottoms and underpants, I came close to tears while I did my business.