Story: Sleeping in the Enemy

Sleeping in the Enemy
By Varian Milagro


I slammed my feet against the wall of my confinement. It yielded, slightly. My captor was on the move again. I did not know her plans, but I intended to thwart them; her goals were not mine. I kicked again and was rewarded with a groan, which reverberated all around me. My prison continued to sway. I knew not where she headed; my prison had no windows, nor any light. I’d been in darkness since my imprisonment many months prior.

I pushed again, with both feet and hands. Success. She stopped. I heard a familiar, muffled, male voice from outside. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, I never could. Hers were the only words I’d comprehended since my confinement.

“No, I don’t need to sit,” my enemy said.

I rotated my body. Turning in the tight confines was nearly impossible, but I wanted better leverage. I braced my shoulder against what I suspect was her pelvic bone and kicked upwards, repeatedly.

“On second thought, perhaps sitting for awhile would be a good idea. She’s pretty active today. Can you get me some water, honey?”

I sensed movement again, but instead of swaying, we seemed to descend for a moment followed by an abrupt halt, then stillness.

“There, there little girl,” she said.

I felt pressure against my feet. She was rubbing her belly, giving my feet a massage. It felt heavenly. I unlocked my knees, reflexively.

“I know you’re still mad; you probably think it kinder had I killed you as I was regretfully forced to do to your men. Executing you was the popular choice. No, that would have been a foolish waste. You are too bright, too resourceful, too inventive; the world needs people with your talents.”

I tried to continue my assault, but between the soothing sound of her voice and her comforting, indirect touch, I could no longer fight. I’d been deprived of outside contact, robbed of all human interaction, save hers. Despite my hatred, I absorbed any stimulation she gave me. Her every utterance bore into me, tearing at my self-will, undoing my very self. It was a kind of super charged Stockholm syndrome.

“Yes, this way will be much better, you’ll see. You will be reborn into a better life and raised with a loving family. You’ll grow into a woman who will benefit society instead of being that nasty man who preyed upon it. And, I’ve always wanted a daughter. Good night, my little angel.”

And with that she began to sing and I knew I’d lost another battle. Her sweet, melodic voice enveloped me. My cares evaporated and my eyes grew heavy. I’d resume my fight after a short nap. My thumb found my mouth and I began to suck. As I drifted off to sleep to my mother’s loving voice, I wondered if she’d continue to sing me to sleep after my birth. I hoped so.

The End


Author's note: Last year a TG writer named Hutcho started a monthly anthology of short-short stories he called "Mixed Tape". Fiction stories have a character limit of 500 words. I decided to give the February 2015 Mixed Tape a shot and the following was the result. I wrote it in about 20 minutes and then edited it over the following two days. The mixed tape is called "Don't Make Me Wild like You: A TG Mixed Tape" and can be found at FictionMania, The BigCloset and TG Storytime The anthology has a lot of great stories. You should check them out.