Pomegranate

Posted on 15 Jul 2018 @ 6:44pm by Lieutenant Tuula Voutilainen M.D.

330 words; about a 2 minute read

"Pomegranate!" shouted Tuula, lying on her back as she struggled futilely against the restraints that held her hands spread apart above her head. "Pomegranate!"

A few second later, though they felt like hours, she felt the tension against her left arm release, then her right. Instinctively, she brought them to her chest, rubbing her raw wrists as she felt the blindfold loosen and come off.

"Are... you all right?" asked the tall, dark-haired half-Bajoran standing over her.

"Yeah," she said, breathing heavily and exhibiting symptoms that, had she seen them in others, would have accurately diagnosed as an anxiety attack. "I just... I'm sorry... I can't do this tonight..."

*************************

Computer, begin log.

Tonight wasn't a good night. Well, it started out good. I had finally managed to get out there and make it to a club. It was a nice place; industrial decor, techno music, and plenty of absinthe cocktails. Perhaps one too many absinthe cocktails, but who is counting anyways? I even managed to forget about Kreanus for a few hours and met someone. Nothing serious, of course, just a one night thing. I think he must have liked my neck tattoo or the green highlights in my mohawk.

At the end of the night, we went back to my quarters. Things were going well for a while, but once the blindfold came on, those visions came flooding back. Being strapped into that machine, feeling the punch from that mean Klingon... I gave them my name, rank and serial number, but the beating didn't stop. And then... the neural probe...

I wanted to forget about it; I really did. I thought a night out would do me good. But it's been weeks, and the physical effects have mostly worn off. I still have to take these damn pills; otherwise I risk another siezure. But no matter how hard I try to forget, I'm right back there.

Sigh.

I better get to bed. Hopefully I won't have that dream. Again.

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