My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 8 Questions by Marita A. Hansen

1
    J AGGER
    Someone shook me. I tried to open my
eyes, but like my body they felt heavy: weighed down, lethargic,
and sluggish.
    “ Wake up, Jagger,” a female
voice said.
    She sounded young, possibly a
teenager.
    “ Please wake up; I can’t carry you
inside.”
    I tried to open my eyes again, but they
remained sealed shut. The female swore. Hands grabbed my ankles and
tugged on me. My body slid across something leathery, then over an
edge. My ass hit the ground, which strangely didn’t hurt. It was
almost as though I was rolled in bubble wrap, something that made
absolutely no sense considering I could still feel her touching me.
Maybe I just couldn’t feel physical pain, the drugs I’d taken
dulling it into nothingness.
    “ Merda! ” the female swore. “I’m sorry. Are
you okay?”
    No matter how much I wanted to
reply, I couldn ’t.
    She exhaled loudly. “Man, you can sleep
through anything.”
    My wrists were grabbed by small hands. I
was swung around, the female grunting as she dragged me across a
gravelly surface. She stopped for a moment, no doubt taking a rest,
because she was breathing heavily.
    “ My friends wouldn’t believe me if they
knew I had you,” she said.
    Had me? Apprehension settled in. Again,
I willed myself to open my eyelids, but I felt nothing, not even a
flutter.
    “ You don’t look heavy, but, God,
you’re killing my arms, Jagger.” Heaving at me, she dragged me
another few feet and then leaned me up against a rough surface.
Keys jingled. A moment later, she was pulling me over what felt
like a doorstep and onto carpet, my legs hitting something as I
rounded a corner.
    After several
seconds , she
came to a halt, placing me up against a much softer surface. She
wrapped her arms around my torso, her breasts pushing into my
chest. “Up,” she said, lifting me a fraction. I fell back down. She
tightened her grip and yelled, “Up!” as though I would miraculously
move. Again, I fell back down. “You will sleep on the damned floor
if you don’t get up on the bed, Jagger,” she growled as if I was
purposely defying her.
    Wrapping her arms around me again, she
yelled out like a weightlifter and heaved my upper body onto the
mattress. Footsteps rounded the bed, then my hands were tugged on,
sliding me across the spongy surface. She let go and grabbed my
ankles, straightening me.
    “ I can’t believe I got you inside all by
myself,” she exhaled loudly, “but your clothes are totally ruined.”
She removed my shirt, then rolled me onto my side.
“ Merda ,” she said. “I’m sorry, Jagger, I didn’t mean to scrape your
back.”
    Footsteps ran off, then returned a few
moments later. She rolled me onto my front and removed my pants,
apologizing repeatedly for scratching me, although her words were
mumbled, the woman no doubt thinking I couldn’t hear
her.
    She started cleaning my back with what
felt like a wet sponge. Once done, she moved down to my legs,
stopping for a few seconds, her breathing heavy, the woman sounding
like she was running a marathon. She resumed what she was doing,
muttering that I had a gorgeous body. Eventually, the sponge
disappeared and a towel replaced it. She carefully dried me, then
stuck what I assumed were bandages all over my back and
legs.
    “ Lucky you’re unconscious or
that would’ve stung like crazy,” she said. “Though, don’t worry, it
won’t scar, they’re only superficial cuts.” She exhaled. “Why am I
explaining this to you? It’s not like you can hear me. I don’t even
know why I’m helping you, since you were a complete stronzo in high school. I
had the biggest crush on you, yet you didn’t even know I was
alive.” She ran a fingertip up my back. “Okay, I can’t say I blame
you, I was rather chubby back then and had braces. I was also two
grades younger than you. Still, you could’ve acknowledged my
existence.” She poked me in the back. “And now I’m helping you, you
owe me.” She rolled me onto my back.