The smell of breakfast wafted through the cabin, and Laura's stomach churned. It wasn't hunger; it was a queasy, uncomfortable feeling that grew stronger with each step she took towards the galley. She double-checked the menu to ensure there was no mint in the meal options, but everything appeared normal. Despite her trepidation, she had to admit that the smell of the eggs and bacon was tantalizing.
Once the passengers were settled, Laura began her safety demonstration, her voice calm and steady. But as she spoke, her stomach lurched again, this time more insistently. It was as if someone was playing a twisted game with her insides, turning her digestive system into a roller coaster. She took a deep breath and pressed on, her smile never wavering. It had to be nerves, she told herself, trying to ignore the growing sense of unease.
After the demonstration, Laura retreated to the galley and took another sip of her mint tea. The nausea subsided for a moment, only to return with a vengeance as the aircraft began to taxi. She felt like a marionette with unseen strings being tugged at, her body reacting to unseen cues. The tea grew cold in her hand, forgotten as she tried to keep her breakfast down. Was it just the turbulence of takeoff, or was there something more sinister at play?
The flight took off without incident, and Laura focused on her duties, serving drinks and ensuring the passengers were comfortable. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being manipulated, her body responding to a will that wasn't her own. Every time she approached the breakfast cart, her stomach would roil, forcing her to take a step back. The passengers noticed her distress, whispering concerns to one another, and Laura did her best to reassure them with a forced smile.
But the control panel inside her mind was not content with mere discomfort. As the breakfast service began, Laura felt her throat constrict, her body fighting against the very air she breathed. She stumbled, dropping a tray of food, the clatter echoing through the cabin. The passengers gasped, and Laura's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and fear. What was happening to her? Was she losing control?
Her hand flew to her stomach, trying to massage away the sudden pain that shot through her like a bolt of lightning. It was then she heard it, the faintest whisper of a laugh, a sound so faint it could have been the whine of the engines or the rustle of plastic in the air recirculation system. Laura's eyes widened in horror as she realized that the voice was coming from inside her own head.
Panic set in, her heart racing as she tried to understand the impossible. Was it a hallucination? Some kind of sick prank? No, it was David's voice, she was sure of it. He was playing with her, controlling her from within, making her body his own personal playground. She had to get to the bottom of this, to regain control before it was too late.
With trembling hands, Laura excused herself to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She leaned against the cool metal, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "David," she whispered, "what have you done?" The voice inside her grew clearer, his chuckles turning into words she could understand. "Just a little demonstration of my power, Laura. Welcome to your new reality."
Her stomach clenched again, a vise tightening around her innards. Laura knew she couldn't go on like this, not if her body was a battleground for David's amusement. She had to find a way to fight back, to regain control of her own life. But how could she battle an enemy she couldn't even see, let alone touch?
Her thoughts raced as she stood in the cramped space, the roar of the engines a backdrop to her silent scream. Laura had always been a problem solver, a person who thrived under pressure. But this... this was beyond anything she had ever faced. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut: she was trapped in her own body, with no escape in sight.
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