Three Days

Apr 11, 2021

I’ve been missing for three days.

I can tell because there’s a tiny, high window in here and I’ve kept track of the sun since they threw me in and locked the door. That’s all I know.

I assume the entire Secret Service isn’t sleeping either, considering my safety is their most important gig, but who knows, this could be an inside job. I was on my way to get a haircut. My detail is supposed to go with me everywhere but sometimes, feeling crushed by the enormity of it all, I use a disguise and the tunnels to venture out alone and undetected.

They had asked me to stop on several occasions; my sneaking it making it impossible to protect me. Maybe it was an inside job. Who else would know about my excursions outside the walls? Maybe I hadn’t gone so undetected after all. No matter, it had been stupid on my part.

They grabbed me on my way back to the tunnels. I knew it wasn’t safe to be out on my own. I had been receiving death threats for months. There were too many people who weren’t ready for it to be a woman.

Enough people were ready or I likely wouldn’t be locked in this room. The ones that weren’t had become loud and aggressive and almost feral with rage. It became a festering infection. Now I’m trapped in this pit, presumably a symptom of the pulsating pustule that this world has become.

I hear footsteps and the jingling of keys just before a metal flap is opened at the bottom of the door. A tray of something resembling food slides across the floor. My attackers had started sliding the food in after I fought with the first two thugs that came in with food.

Twice on the first day, men had come in dressed in white and carrying trays of this slop. Both times I had pounced; fought for my life. I bit and scratched and kicked and screamed. Other people in similar white uniforms came rushing in, hands grabbing on to me from all directions.

Each episode ended with the sharp bite of a needle shooting powerful sedatives into my arm. When I awoke after the second incident, they had restrained me with what appeared to be a straight jacket. This development sent me into a blithering, desperate panic but I’ve managed to calm myself down. It's amazing what you can face down when you don’t have any other choice.

I reach out and grab the tray. I’ve become aware of two sets of eyes, watching me through an open slat at the top of the door. I pay them no mind.

I’ve decided that I’m going to eat the food. I’m convinced that the meals are drugged but my body and mind need nourishment if I am to figure a way out of this.

Where is the Secret Service? The top law enforcement agency in the world, with every resource available to them and they haven’t been able to find me for three full days? Maybe the call was coming from inside the house.

I started spooning the mess into my mouth as I thought about my chances of getting out of this alive. The food was actually not that bad; my chances for survival were abysmal, especially if the guys on my team had switched sides.

How deep does it go? Is anyone even looking for me? How will they explain it? As I finish the last of what is on my plate, I watch the eyes disappear from the door. I hear the voices attached to them as they shuffle away, but I am too manically focused on making an escape plan to register their words.

Besides, I’m getting so sleepy…

“It’s so sad, really…found her wandering the city…out of her mind and convinced someone is out to get her…Yep! Thinks she’s the President and she’s been kidnapped by the Secret Service…"

I struggle to understand as I finally drift off into a forced sleep,"...attacked two orderlies…bit one of their fingers clean off! Doctors are sedating her with the food…dosing her with psychiatric meds once she’s out…don’t even know who she really is…poor dear…”

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