Not My Life

 The instant Natalie woke up, she knew something was wrong. Her familiar lumpy bed, with the too flat pillows was far too comfortable. The bed she had awoken in cradled her curves, firmly pushing back against her weight. A lead bar was pressing down on her chest, making her feel each breath she took. The lead bar moved. It was an arm. The arm pulled her closer, pinning her against a decidedly masculine body.

A hand began to roam, and explore. This snapped her out of her dozy confusion, and she leapt out of the strange bed, panic rising in her chest. Landing on the floor she came to a startling realization, she was naked.

I don't understand, she thought, her brain trying to keep up. I went to bed snuggled up with Scruffles, like I always do, and now I'm naked in a strange man's bed.

"Darling, come back to bed." The stranger spoke, his deep voice sending shivers of fear down her back.

She stayed on the floor, scrambling backwards as a muscular pair of thick dark haired legs swung down to the ground.

As a rule, Natalie didn't date, let alone engage in the one night stands that seemed to be so popular among her peers. A terrible experience in college had cured any desire for love and companionship that she might have once dreamed of. The only bed fellow she now slept with, was her aging schnauzer, Scruffles.

Desperate, and still on the ground, she grabbed a heavy book off the nightstand and held it over her breasts, as if it had the power to repel an unwanted attack. "Stay the fuck away from me, creep."

"Nat, what the hell has gotten into you this morning?" He slithered off the bed and sat on the floor with her, a confused expression on his strong face.

"How do you know my name?" Her words came out rushed, her voice rising in her panic.

"You're joking, right sweetheart?" He reached out a hand towards her, "C'mon, you got me. Let's get off the floor and make some coffee."

She swatted his hand away with the book. "Just show me where my clothes are, and let me go. I won't call the police, I promise."

His face darkened. "Quit messing around. This whole thing stopped being funny almost as soon as it started."

"I'm not joking. I don't know who the fuck you are, and why I woke up in your bed. I sure as hell didn't end up here on purpose."

Natalie watched as the man strode away, as he grabbed something off of a shelf, and brought it back to her.

Hesitantly, she accepted his offering, gasping when she saw what it was. A picture frame with a wedding picture, her wedding picture. A version of herself in a white dress that had never existed beamed up at a tuxedo clad man, who looked down at her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

"This... this isn't possible. You have to believe me, I don't know if this is a prank show, or some trick you've concocted, but I'm not married, I don't know you."

The man sighed. "Your clothes are in the closet. Get dressed, have a cup of coffee with me. If you still believe you don't know me after that, I'll take you to the hospital."

Silently, Natalie put on clothes that fit perfectly, but she had never seen before. She eyed the stranger warily as she sat down. He towered over her petite frame, and looked as if he had played sports in his youth. She sipped the steaming mug of coffee, wincing at the heat.

"So," he said. "If you don't know who I am, do you know who you are?"

"I'm Natalie Collins."

"Natalie Hawkins," He corrected. "You took my last name."

Shaking her head, she said, "No. I'm Natalie Collins. Thirty-four, bank teller, deliberately single dog owner."

"We don't have a dog, you are most definitely not single, and you're a graphic designer."

This gave Natalie pause. She had wanted to be a graphic designer, but gave up on that dream, years ago, when she had dropped out of college.

"That's not me, none of this is me," she whispered, the coffee far too bitter on her tongue.

The hospital ran test after test. She was poked, prodded, questioned, and scanned. Keith, her supposed husband, stood by her side, an unwanted presence throughout. She kept yanking her hand out of his, but he was persistent, and eventually, she was too tired to keep resisting.

A doctor, one of many who had examined her walked in, eyes focused on the clipboard in his hands. "We can't find anything wrong physically with your wife, Mr. Hawkins. Does she have any history of mental instability, or delusions?"

"I'm not mentally unstable," she said, anger coursing through her. "He's somehow faking our relationship. I never met him before today." A thought occurred to her. "Check my driver's license, and compare it to his. The addresses won't match."

Silent, the stranger grabbed the two licenses and handed them to the doctor.

"Both IDs have the same address Mrs. Hawkins." The doctor turned to address her false husband. "I'm recommending a seventy-two hour psych hold. Sometimes stress can cause episodes like this."

The men continued talking, but Natalie could no longer hear them. Her mind raced, going back over the past decade of her life. There's no way I imagined everything, and that this man, this life is mine. My life is too mundane, too boring to be made up.

Her fate decided by others, she found herself being wheeled down a long hallway, and into the psych ward. The click of the door locking as she was pushed through did nothing to reassure her.

I must be dreaming, she thought, the realization hitting her. This is all a stupid dream. Didn't I read somewhere that eating ice cream before bed causes nightmares? I'm pretty sure I polished off the last of the mocha chip last night. Hope began to grow in her chest. All I need to do is scream, and I'll wake up. That trick always works.

Natalie began screaming, loud and piercing, but she didn't wake up, the scenery didn't change. She screamed louder.

A woman in a white coat came running, a syringe in her hand. The bite of the needle was sharp, but the woman's voice was soothing. "Hush now, things will be better when you wake up."

She found herself drifting off to sleep, memories real and imagined swirling through her head as she fought to fall asleep, or stay awake, or whatever it was that she had been trying to do.

The instant Natalie woke up, she knew something was wrong.