The Coffer

Something bright flashes against my closed lids, turning my sleeping world bright red for a moment. I'm not quite ready to wake up, so I toss my blanket over my face and groan from a sharp pain in my wrist. The hell did I do in my sleep this time? Slowly I open an eye and see two things that catch my attention very quickly: this is not my blanket, and when did I get a tattoo? The black ink looks fresh, almost like a pool of liquid on my skin, with my skin around it showing an angry and burning red-black. Curiosity and fear starts to eat at me, making my stomach churn, so I slowly bring the blanket down so I can see where I am.

The brightness behind the blanket blinds me momentarily, though my vision starts clearing after a few short moments. From the bed I can see that the walls have video images of nature scenes. Across from me are two beds, one occupied by a male and the other a female, and a wall that has a scene of green grass, wildflowers, and lusciously leaved trees in bright sunshine on it. Behind my head was another female in a bed with the screen wall next to us showing a darker scene, it looked like a storm in early fall. Lightning flashes across its sky, most likely the culprit to the bright light that woke me, and colorful leaves struggle to stay on their branches from the gusts of strong wind. There is no sound of thunder, or anything of nature, coming from the screens. The wall behind me has a winter scene with deep, glistening snow covering the whole landscape, the only thing marring the image is another bed with a sleeping figure. I can’t tell if the sleeping person is male or female, but in the end, does it really matter?

I look down at my wrist, my eyes adjusted to the light and try to make out what the tattoo is. It's delicate and simple, just a few lines and circles, and doesn't look like anything with meaning. Though, it does tweak something in the back of my mind, like I have seen this, or something like it, before. I trace along it, and try to think back and figure out what it could be. My fingernail catches on a bit on a scab under the tatoo, possibly from a small cut. I shake my head, in an attempt to remove the fogginess of sleep and cobwebs of dreams in my mind.

This doesn't even feel real, should I wake up everyone else? I decide against it, thinking that pandemonium right now isn't the best option. I’ll look around a bit, see if I can figure anything out before everyone else gets up and gets in the way. I don’t need to panic, and I need to keep myself calm and under control. Breathe in, breathe out, and look. Growing up I had dealt with the potential of being kidnapped, or our home burglarized, it was a bad neighborhood. I learned quickly to keep my calm and to not bother anyone I didn't know, and to take in my surroundings.

Looking around I notice a three drawer dresser, made out of shining white plastic, at the foot of the bed. Each of us has one, which causes me to notice something I hadn't before: there are names engraved on our beds. “Sara” and “Brendon” are next to the screen wall that shows the summer scene, “Toni” is the lone person against the winter wall, and behind me is “Kait”. I grab the blanket and wrap it around me and look at the floor, hoping for slippers as I don’t know the material of the floor, and notice how it shines white like the plastic dresser. Seriously, what the hell is with this place? There are no slippers, but it turns out to be alright as the floor is made of the same plastic as the furniture.

My mind starts racing, wanting to panic. Fears from childhood are trying to claw their way to the forefront of my mind, and I have to push them away. Traces of screams, gunshots and hiding under beds are being painted in my vision. I try to blink them away, tears wanting to form. Before I can stop them, tears start to fall and cold slivers of fear make their way down my spine and cause me to shiver. The fears of what has happened to my child, my husband, and my home make the tears fall faster.

Okay, get ahold of yourself, let’s try to remember last night and figure out how you ended up here. Put the baby to bed, hubby was coming home late so I made myself some tea and went to read a book and go to sleep. I made the tea myself, so I couldn’t have been drugged. Did my husband even come home? Wait…”husband”? The realization that I’m calling him “husband” in my thoughts hits as I find the button for the bathroom door. It’s a small thing, set between where we are all sleeping and what looks like a living room area. His name…is Jonathan. Don’t know why it took me a minute, maybe I was drugged after all.

I continue to go through the events of the evening before, and just can’t recall anything that could possibly have gotten me here. In the bathroom I check myself in the mirror. My fingers, still manicured a soft pink, run across my body in search of anything that might be off. There is a swollen spot on the back of my left thigh, and in the mirror I see a pale dot on my dark skin. I circle around it with nails, it looks almost like a pimple but didn't have the same feel as one. More like the swelling of an infected wound. Was I drugged?...But how would this happen? And when?

My heart starts to race and the world starts to spin, the metal sink keeping me from falling to the floor. Dayna, Mommy’s so sorry she isn't home. I hope you're safe and Daddy is there with you. The tears that started to fall hit the sink with sharp clinks, my vision gone. What if someone took Dayna as well? Stop, breathe, come back to the now. This is what’s happening, this is where you are, keep your calm and move forward.

Shakily, I get out of the bathroom, and go back to searching for any clue on how to get out of, or how I got in, here. There's a kitchen area, well stocked with both food and cooking supplies. There was a black wall, probably another screen that hasn't been turned on. The kitchen is more of a nook, it adds an extra two walls including the black screen. White cabinets, white table, white chairs, white vase, white flowers. Everything was sanitary white in here. Overall the place is much larger than it seems. The sleeping area is far enough from the kitchen that it doesn't seem intrusive, could possibly be for the illusion of privacy from others if necessary.

A groan from the beds catches my ear and and I rush back to the bathroom, keeping the door cracked to pay attention. What am I doing here? This place is so odd, I just want to go back home. A few moments have passed, and there was no noise. Perhaps the person was still asleep. Slowly I get out of the bathroom, and go back to the bed and look around it. Nothing. No clues. No doors. No windows. Just white.

There is a drawer under the bed, and I open it slowly to make sure it didn't make any noise. Books, a multitude of them, were filled inside it. I finger through them and try to find something of interest. I stop on a book about symbols and look at my wrist again, then decide to pull it out and see if I can find more information on the design. As I close the lid, I see a symbol on the inside of it. I can’t make it out, as it is only a raised image, no color. I frown and place the book on the bed, my fingers lingering on it briefly. I decide to go through the miniature dresser.

White clothing was inside each drawer. White socks, white shirts, white shorts, white pants, white bras and white underwear. I pick up the undergarments and raise an eyebrow, seeing that they are my size. I can’t stop the cold chill that goes down my spine. It reaches down to my toes and into my fingertips; I place the garments back into the drawer and shut it quietly.

With nothing else to do, I wrap my blanket in a tight hug around me and wait for the others to wake up.