The soft glow of my laptop screen illuminated the delicate lines of my research data, a symphony of numbers and graphs that represented four years of my life, my heart, my soul. Tonight was the night. The Harrison Award ceremony. I had chosen a simple, elegant dark blue dress, a stark contrast to the lab coat I usually lived in. A small tremor of excitement, a foreign sensation, ran through me. Maybe, just maybe, tonight would be different. Tonight, they would see.
A sudden, jarring crash from the back of the lab made me jump. My heart hammered against my ribs. What was that? I wasn't expecting anyone. My lab was secure, or so I thought. Dread, cold and sharp, began to creep up my spine.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice trembling slightly. No answer. Only the scuffling of feet.
Then, the door to the storage room burst open, revealing two figures, hulking shadows against the dim emergency lights. They wore dark clothes and masks. My breath caught in my throat. Robbers? Here? Now?
Before I could react, I was overwhelmed, a sense of powerlessness washing over me as they moved with a swift, brutal efficiency. I cried out, struggling, but they were too strong. My eyes darted around, searching for an escape, anything.
"How… how did you get in?" I gasped, my voice hoarse with terror. My lab was locked, secured with a top-of-the-line system.
One of them, the taller one, chuckled, a chilling sound from behind his mask. He held up a familiar silver keycard. My stomach dropped. I recognized it instantly. The implication was a cold stone sinking into my gut. Jetta? No, it couldn't be.
"What do you want?" I pleaded, my voice cracking. "I don't have anything valuable here, just my research. Take whatever you want, just… please don't hurt me."
"Oh, we're not here for valuables, Dr. Crane," the other one sneered, his voice raspy. "We're here for you. And your precious research." He gestured toward my laptop, then back to me. "Someone wants you to learn your place."
Jetta. The name echoed in my mind, a cold, hard certainty. My sister. She had sent them. The thought was more horrifying than the masked men in front of me.
"Please," I begged again, tears streaming down my face. "Don't. I'll do anything. Just let me go."
They ignored me. My pleas were met with another sneer. The taller one grabbed my arm, twisting it painfully behind my back. I cried out as he shoved me towards a heavy metal table, the kind used for dissection. My head grazed the cold steel.
"Get her on the table," the raspy voice commanded.
Panic surged through me. This was more than a "lesson." This was an attack. I fought with a ferocity I didn't know I possessed, kicking, scratching, biting. I bit the taller one's hand. He roared in pain, his grip loosening for a fraction of a second.
His rage was a palpable force. He raised his free hand and struck me with a sudden, blinding force. My head snapped back, hitting the edge of a heavy lab equipment. A flash of white light exploded behind my eyes, and then the world dissolved into darkness.
I felt a strange detachment, as if I were floating above my own body. The men, their faces now contorted with a different kind of fear, stumbled back.
"She's bleeding!" one of them gasped, his voice high-pitched. "Too much. Boss said only a lesson!"
"Damn it, she hit her head! Let's get out of here!"
I heard their frantic whispers, their hurried footsteps, then the slam of the lab door. They were gone. They had left me. Alone.
My vision blurred, the lab lights swimming before my eyes. My hand instinctively reached for my phone, which had fallen from my pocket during the struggle. It was cracked, but still on. One last desperate act. I felt a surge of adrenaline, a primal will to survive. My head was pounding, the world spinning. I couldn't see the screen, but I knew the familiar pattern. My thumb fumbled, pressing the emergency contacts. I had set up a quick dial for Hayden, my fiancé. He was the only one who might answer.
The phone rang, a distant, tinny sound. I heard a click.
"H-Hayden," I rasped, my voice barely a whisper. "Help… I'm… I'm hurt. In the lab… please…"
A moment of silence on the other end. Then Hayden's voice, laced with frustration, not concern. "Cheslie? What is it now? I told you, I'm already on my way to Jetta's party. This is not the time for your dramatics."
My heart, already shattered, splintered further. "No… not dramatics… I'm bleeding… bad…"
"Bleeding?" he scoffed. "Seriously? What, did you cut yourself on a test tube? Look, I'm busy. Jetta needs me. Stop trying to ruin her night for attention. I don't know what kind of stunt this is, but it's not working. Just clean yourself up and come to the party. Or don't. I don't care. Just don't call me with this nonsense again."
He hung up. The line went dead.
My vision faded to black. A bitter, ironic thought was my last companion. They wouldn't come. They never would. Jetta's wish. She had always wanted me gone. Now, she had her wish. And I was finally free. The cold embrace of unconsciousness, or something more, welcomed me.
