AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I don’t believe that for a second. I slide out from the sheets, knowing that once these aliens get an idea in their heads, they don’t give up on it easily. Atlas wants me under his complete and total control. It’s not enough for him to hold me captive. He wants every neuron in my mind to be beholden to him.
He moves toward me, his bulk taking up all of the available exits. There’s no way out.
There’s no way out…
“Shhh, it’s okay,” he says. “I’m not going to hurt you. This will feel good. This will feel better than anything has ever felt before.”
“Let me go!”
I shout the words before he even touches me, but I know what the outcome is going to be. Sure enough, before I know it, he has hold of me. He’s trying not to be rough with me, but I am fighting for more than my life. I’m fighting for my mind. I’m fighting to know exactly how bad my life is. I’m fighting for the first and last little bit of freedom I ever had…
11 HAPPILY EVER AFTER
Swing music is playing on the big free-standing radio, and I am maneuvering a mop around the black and white checkered floor as sun streams through the window. I can hear the sounds of the neighborhood filtering through the partially open pane. There’s the low hum of cars, and the sounds of kids playing ball in the cul-de-sac. I smile to myself as they shout their little victories and frustrations to the world at large.
“Honey! I’m home!”
I turn toward the door as it swings open. A man steps in wearing a brown three-piece suit. He has very pleasant square features and a broad, pleased smile on his face. He drops his briefcase by the door, removes his shoes, and comes to give me a kiss.
“Hello, darling,” my handsome husband says.
I smile up at him, rubbing my palms over my now flatter stomach. I have the memory of being big and wide and swollen, but every time I touch my body now, I find it quite different. I suppose I’ll get used to the change over time. That’s what my husband says anyway, and he’s always right. I’m very lucky to have such a handsome, wonderful man in my life. Some of the other ladies down the street occasionally have things to complain about, but I never do. My husband is perfect. He provides for me and ensures I have everything I need. A low hum thrumming through our house is testament to that — it’s the sound of my new washer dryer unit doing the laundry so I don’t have to.
He makes sure I have all the clothing and other trinkets I want too. Right now I am wearing a very pretty dress with cornflower blue blooms all over it. My hair has been coiffed into curls. When I glance into the little plastic framed round mirror set on the counter, I see that my makeup is perfectly applied even though I don’t entirely recall applying it.
“How was the baby today?”
“Oh, the baby. Of course, he’s been perfect!” I let out a little carefree laugh and go into the nursery, which is painted in a lovely teal and powder blue. Teal carpets, a pale blue crib, and matching change table with a soft mattress with little red rockets on it. There are other little touches too, dresser drawers and even a little wardrobe with onesies hanging neatly along a rail. There is also a baby.
My baby.
“Hi baby,” I smile down at my son, whose blood-red eyes crease with glee when he sees me. His chubby little silver-gray cheeks and raven dark hair remind me of someone. He is wearing an adorable white onesie with rocking horses playing across it. It’s quite cute, but he’s already starting to outgrow it. I will need to go shopping again, but that’s no hardship. The local store always seems to have everything I need no matter what it is I need.
“Mama!”
He reaches for me and I pick him up. He is a warm, squirmy weight in my arms. Holding him feels like everything that is good happening to me all at once. I wonder what life was like before I had him. It’s very hard to remember, but my husband says that is normal too. He says that when a woman has a baby, her life starts over again. I think that must be true. I don’t remember giving birth to the baby, it’s the oddest thing. But my husband explains that it’s not uncommon to forget the pain of childbirth, so I am glad for that.
“Ow!” Baby nips me while nuzzling hungrily against my chest.
He’s the sweetest little thing with the most adorable little fangs. I have to pump to feed him, and there’s a special bottle I use because he tends to puncture them. It’s funny how some things feel so clear, and other things feel fuzzy. I try not to dwell on them, but there’s an unsettling feeling that seems to follow me around.
My husband appears with the bottle. It has been warmed to just the right temperature, and the baby reaches for it with his happy grabby little hands. He’d like to hold it for himself, but of course he can’t yet. I cradle him in my arms and hold the bottle for him as he suckles hungrily at the teat.
“He is growing so nicely,” my husband says.
I smile at the baby and then back at the man. I know their names. Of course I know their names. But they swim hazily in my mind and there is a sense that it doesn’t matter really. They are my baby and my husband. That’s all I have to know. That’s all that matters. Life is simple, and so am I.
I am safe.
I am kept.
I am home.
“You’ve worked so hard,” my ever so handsome and entirely adoring husband says. “You’ve looked after the baby all day long. I know you must be exhausted and hungry. Why don’t you let me feed little Rhys and you can go get something to eat.”
Rhys, that’s right. He’s named after his father. How could I forget? I am so silly sometimes.
“I am peckish,” I admit. “But I am watching my figure.”
