Cafe

She awoke face down on the floor of a department store, and looked around in a daze. A coffee shop was to her left, scattered clothes hung in a mess on her right. She forced herself to her feet and entered the shop. It was full of teenagers. They had pushed the tables into large groups, and threw things at each other laughing; even the baristas had joined. She walked towards the counter with heavy feet, trying to catch the barista’s attention; she was a heavily pregnant teen and plastered with cheap, colorful makeup. The teen looked at the drowsy woman in disdain and grudgingly accepted her order.

The woman approached the end of the counter, her headache almost subsiding. Her memory was foggy with no guess as to how she found her way to this unusual place. While lost in thought a tall, brown-haired woman blocked her view of the counter. She handed the barista some change and took the coffee. She turned to face the dazed woman and handed her the cold, murky coffee. A slurred gratitude escaped her paling lips:

“Thank you…why would you pay for my coffee?”

“Because you’re hot.”

The beautiful woman began flirting with her, flaunting her 'extensive' past. She tried to flirt back through her exhaustion, but her romantic technique was already sub-par. The woman raised an eyebrow at the clumsy compliments, clearly unimpressed; she started speaking of a man from her past to break the awkward silence, a photographer that she would model for.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were a model.” She didn’t know what else to say. The woman nodded.

A ominous feeling suddenly washed over her body, a terrible warning begging her to leave the cafe. She saw her chance to escape the woman’s presence, asking her to ‘model’ for her. The woman smiled and began her routine, clearly gaining interest once more. She slowly made her way to the floor, spreading her arms and arching her back.

She wanted to run but her feet felt rooted to the linoleum. She was trying to watch the woman, but her eyes wouldn’t focus. Standing was difficult and she swayed side to side. The half empty cup was still clutched in her left hand.

As if choreographed, all of the teens rose and pounced on the woman, making her yelp in shock. When they had cleared, she saw they had stripped the woman to her white undergarments and pinned her to the floor with ropes. Two adolescent boys stood over her, admiring their work. Her body glistened with oil in the dim café lights. The shorter boy reached into his right pocket and gripped a metal lighter. The girls sitting on the tables cheered them on, making the boy smile with confidence. The woman writhed in her bonds and screamed with newfound desperation.

The boy flicked the lighter and dropped it onto her stomach. The oil absorbed the flame and engulfed her body in bright, smokeless fire. Her screams reached a blood-curdling pitch as she uselessly floundered on the burnt linoleum.

She didn’t help. She couldn’t help but watch. No one paid attention to her, they only shouted and celebrated their unwilling sacrifice. Her eyes glazed as the swaying intensified. She couldn’t feel the heat of the fire, smell the burning flesh and hair; her body was absolutely numb.

I awoke face down on the floor of a department store. My head was twisted to the left, and I saw a dimly lit café. It was full of people, teens mostly. They were shouting gleefully at something, something bright. Slowly my vision faded to black, and I became deaf to their cheering.

I awoke face down on the floor of a department store. With tired eyes, I noticed a brightly lit coffee shop. Customers rolled by me with red shopping carts, taking no notice of the girl lying helplessly on the floor. Maybe they can’t see me. A few staff members glanced quizzically, but did not come to my aid. Ok, maybe they could. An unfamiliar voice wafted over, urging me to get up. She sounded very annoyed, as if I was a great inconvenience. I was unable to move, paralyzed, almost glued to the floor. She continued to yell at me, but I was already slipping into the black. The lights, her voice…faded…

I awoke face down on the floor of a department store. My head was twisted to the left, and I saw a brightly lit café with a shiny white floor. I stood up slowly and approached the shop. A single barista in a spotless apron stood behind the counter, polishing an already sparking espresso machine. A nurse clad in blue scrubs approached me; she had been sitting quietly at a table drinking a small black coffee. She had a pinched face and a high ponytail, an older woman. My voice was soft and thin:

“What happened to me?”

“You fell down” She walked over to the bar and opened a drawer from under the counter. The barista stepped aside with no resistance.

“How long have I been…?”

“A few minutes.” She pulled an insulin needle out of the drawer and examined it.

“It felt like an hour.” That was a lie, it felt like I had been dreaming for eternity. An endless cycle of nightmares.

“A little insulin will help.” She approached me with the needle and looked at my shaking arm.

“But I’m not diabetic.”

I was too groggy to resist. I slightly lifted my trembling arm in protest. She looked at me mockingly and pushed it aside gently.

“It doesn’t matter.”

She turned the dial on the pen and lifted my shirt, exposing my midriff.

“You didn’t even test me.”

I was too weak; I let her move my shirt and pinch my stomach fat. She pushed the needle in and pressed the end of the pen. A cold numbness began to spread through my body as my vision began to fade...