Delineated Gray

         It's alive. That is the only thought that manages to escape the foggy state of my brain. Succinct, yet not adequate to describe the way that I feel the air thrill with tension. I do not know what to attribute this uneasiness to - perhaps it is one of the most recent conjurations of an overactive mind and my own paranoia.

         The house is tauntingly silent. Nothing but the low whirring of the fan and the hum of the icemaker disrupt my forced solitude.

         I can hardly think straight. I'm perfectly well rested and sober, but I might as well be inebriated for how well I am functioning at the moment. I feel like a slowly withering vegetable, lazily stretched out upon my bed. I cannot think.

         No, this is house is far too silent. I really must leave this place. Everything echoes in these cavernous rooms; they may as well be made of stone.

         I can hear the incessant ticking of my own watch as my wrist rests near my head. Tick, tick, tick, tick. It is the symphony to my droning thoughts. Wonderingly I contemplate why Jason has not returned though it is currently ten p.m. The thought and its implications simply wash over me, and I lie as prone as before. Maybe I should call him. Still I cannot move. The attempt I make at pushing myself off the bed ends as a mere twitch of my left arm.

         Suddenly, a platonic wall is breached. Frustration seeps in, and I struggle to right myself. Flopping in a manner resembling a fish, I manage to sit up on the bed, hunched over myself. My muscles do not have a will of their own - they have no will at all.

         Hesitatingly, I manage to first pull myself into a crawling position and finally stand. I have experienced sluggishness before, but this is an entirely new experience.

         Suddenly, I hear a loud crash outside. A heightened sense of apprehension lends to my mobility, and I feel a short burst of adrenaline course through my veins. Fear pervades my senses, and I stumble downstairs to the side door. We live twenty miles from nowhere. I will reassure myself of my safety, call Jason, and return to my bed until my sluggishness has passed and Jason comes home.

         I reach for the doorknob, clumsily twisting the lock. Before I completely turn the knob, the door is flung open and I am thrust back. I fall onto my backside, and the fear has returned full force. My sluggishness temporarily overcome, I quickly right myself. There is an Adonis standing in my doorway. Where is Jason?

         I look beyond him, and out the door...and note the box lying on its side. A cruel, gleaming assortment of metal objects has spilled out the top. I notice the speculum.

         His piercing, green eyes pin me to the wall. Slightly frowning, he states, "I told that damn fool he didn't hardly give you a potent enough dose."

         Dose? I have no sickness.

         "Then again, I have always loved a challenge. It's so much easier to set someone up for a fall when they're too far up." His face has brightened.

         "Who...who are you?" I ask, my pulse beating erratically under my skin.

         He laughs without feeling and does not reply. He turns to collect the box and his tools.

         I run to the front door, and frantically twist the knob. The deadlock is locked. We never lock the deadlock. My keys are upstairs. I hear the strange, twisted, beautiful man's rumbling laugh behind me as I frantically pull at the front door. Outside is safety. I hate these cavernous walls. This man is beautiful as sin. He is sin, and he is a curse. The sense of impending doom reaches a frightening crescendo.

         He converges upon me, roughly picking me up. I am going into shock. Curiously, I wonder where Jason is.

         This time, I have managed to say it aloud. I am awarded with a laugh of real mirth, and his shoulders tremble slightly. This time he deigns to reply. "Hiding."

         "Hiding?" I ask, barely disturbed in the state I'm in. He is carrying me back to the Great Room, with the speculum and box of other torturous looking objects. There is no fight in me. The adrenaline has been replaced with a delineated gray, and I am fading.

         He smirks at me. I need more. "What for?"

         A wry look passes over his strong features. "He hardly had the guts to kill you himself."

         "Kill...?" I asked uncomprehendingly.

         Now he is all business. "Of course. I didn't come here for tea parties."

         "Jason loves tea..." I say, mindlessly.

         "Yes, and you love his tea, don't you? His special tea, made especially for you." A manic gleam has entered those beautiful green eyes as he settles me onto the couch. He turns his back to me, sorting through the box.

         I stare at him, confused.

         "What's the matter, baby? Why can you hardly move?"

         "It...it's the heat..." I slur, hardly able to comprehend what he is saying.

         "It is a drug specifically placed in your tea this morning to systematically block acetylcholine receptors in your body. Welcome to the state of torpor. I told your husband that if he needed my services, he would have to do a bit of prepping for me. I was depending on a vegetable by now, yet you are still wonderfully pliant..." he trails off, eyes roving my body. His eyes trail back up to mine, again. "But I love a challenge." His voice is dangerous.

         "You...are here because of Jason."

         He turns to flash me a toothy grin. "I told Jason that payment was not necessary so long as you looked decent. It's been too long since I've done this. And oh baby, do you measure up..." Again the pointed stare.

         Self-consciously I cross my arms over my front with some difficulty. It was reflexive protection, and it was my attempt to ignore the crushing pain in my chest. Utterly betrayed. Oh, Jason, why? The cool metal of my wedding ring weighs heavily on my left hand and it is only my precarious muscular control that prevents me from lobbing it at my company's head.

         His back is turned again. Cautiously, I slide off the couch and slowly crawl towards the back door. I can feel my throat tightening with despair as I haltingly make progress towards escape. This door's deadlock is open. I need to keep him talking. Outside is safety. "Why did Jason go to you?"

         I hear the arrogance in his voice as he states, "Because I am the best. Because he wants you gone. Because he has someone else but needs your money. Because he is a weakling of a man. Pretty one, you are too easily fooled."

         I am almost to the door. "Are you going to kill me?"

         Another laugh.

         "Why?"

         "Why?" he repeats, almost thoughtfully. He shrugs. Mockingly he recites, "In this blind justice, I can be the man who saves the day. I am not that man."

         He laughs now, a harsh, barklike laugh. "In fact, my sweet, I rather prefer to pull the wool over..." he pauses and turns around. He looks at me thoughtfully as I claw determinedly and desperately at the carpet, trying to drag myself to the door. Fear motivates me now. He casually ambles over and slams his foot down onto my spine. I jerk violently before collapsing onto floor. I close my eyes, humiliated and defeated. I can feel the damning tear trickling down my cheek, and his tepid breath as he leans down to whisper, "The best part to see is their spirit breaking..." These are the words I carry to hell.